The Shades of Grey
by Xakinera
Summary: My name is Hallia. I disregard the rules of physics and logic. I have a twin brother who never knew of my existence until a year ago. I break all possible boundaries of the world. I'm the only one who knows what happened to Him. This is my story, my first
1. Another One

The Shades of Gray

Chapter 1Another One

"All right, you little piece of vermin," said a large, red necked, beefy man to a messy haired boy who wasn't paying attention. "That crackpot weirdo said that you're to come with us one more time before your ruddy birthday and then we're rid of you forever." He smiled as he said this, the smile marring his horrible features even more.

"Yes, Uncle Vernon," the boy, Harry, said blandly. His mind wasn't on his uncle. It was on the funeral of the greatest man who ever lived, his friends who were willing to risk their lives for him, and the most evil wizard in the world. Lord Voldemort had been a threat to the wizarding world for too long and it was time he was stopped. Harry, himself, had his parents personally killed by him and would have died himself if his mother hadn't protected him. He escaped with a lightning scar on his forehead just above his glasses.

He knew he couldn't go back to Hogwarts next year but it was like his home. More of a home than Privet Drive had ever been. He looked one last time at the busy streets of London, and King's Cross. He glanced towards the barrier between platform nine and ten and said a silent goodbye to the Hogwarts Express. His other classmates were going home with their parents, no doubt whispering about the events they had witnessed. Harry knew he, himself, couldn't discuss these things until time has numbed the pain he felt since Dumbledore died. After the loss of his godfather last year, Dumbledore was the closest he had to a parent and now he was gone too.

He sometimes wished he had another relative around him. His best friends were enough of course but he had to admit, a sibling, someone else, would be nice. Someone he could teach quiditch to and talk about their parents and wonder what they were like. To help ease the pain of their loneliness. He knew it was an impossible and elaborate fantasy but he was about to get his wish in a left-handed way.

"Bye, Ron. Bye, Hermione." He waved to his friends glumly. Now that Dumbledore was gone, there was no point in much.

"See you soon, Harry." Hermione looked worried, as if he would do something stupid. He knew that look.

"I'll send Pig for you about the wedding. It's on your birthday so you can go then, right?" Ron waved back and left.

Harry wondered whether Mrs. Weasley arranged that on purpose and smiled. She and Fleur had become friends through Bill getting attacked by a werewolf. He stopped smiling and thought about the days ahead. He, Ron, and Hermione, had decided to leave right after the wedding. Hermione wanted to protest but Harry had never given her a chance. He was going to his parents house, Godric's Hollow, assuming that it was still there and then looking for Lord Voldemort's horcruxes.

A horcrux was an object that someone seals a piece of his soul within with an incantation and a murder. Lord Voldemort believed that he would be immortal once he made them. There were six in all, two of which had been destroyed. Harry had been repeating the other four in his head again and again. _The locket…the cup…something of Ravenclaw or Gryffindor…the snake…the snake…_

The piece still in Voldemort must be the last to attack. Harry was still brooding about being the Chosen One bearing what seems like the weight of the world on his shoulders when Aunt Petunia said, "Now, listen here, you boy. Dudders is at a friend's house. We don't want anything…funny going on when we pick him in half an hour, do you hear?"

"Huh? Yeah, sure, whatever. Like I care."

"Don't you speak to your aunt in that tone, you ungrateful little-" Uncle Vernon started to say.

"Ungrateful? For what?" Harry said coolly. "Locking me up in my spider-packed cupboard? Or remembering to feed me a couple times a week?" He pulled out his wand threateningly. If he wasn't going back to Hogwarts in the first place, he won't care about being expelled. He'd always wanted to see his uncle quivering under the Jelly Legs Jinx.

"You-don't you-put that-" Uncle Vernon sputtered a little as his piggy eyes squinted madly. Aunt Petunia gasped and looked around, praying that nobody could see them. Harry grinned and his pain was forgotten for the moment. He was going to have a lot of fun during this short stay.

"Draco, enter."

The nervous blond boy almost tripped over his robes. He was in a dusty old room with the unpleasant smell of rust. He looked fearfully at the chair in front of him, which was, thankfully, facing the peeling wall. There was no other furniture. A snake uncoiled near the chair and hissed warningly. The moldy wooden planks creaked as he stepped closer towards what surely was his doom. "Y-yes, master."

"I am most displeased with you." The voice was high, cold, menacing, and merciless. Draco shifted uncomfortably. A picture of his mother formed in his mind and he cringed.

"I-I am s-sorry, master." He squirmed some more. What else was he to say?

"I did not expect you to succeed, Draco. As you know, I do not accept failure, nor do I forgive easily. You may, however, have one more chance. Your father is still in Azkaban and you must complete his duties for him, am I correct?" It was less of a question, and more of a challenge that Draco dare not accept.

"Of course, master," he said unsteadily. "Thank you."

"You thank me," the voice said slowly as its owner's mouth curved into a leer, "but you do no ask what your task is."

"Well I-"

"At any rate, I shall tell you. You must find the sibling of Harry Potter. You shall go back to your school and tell them you were imperiused. Your mother shall assist you with that. Then, you are to keep an eye out for Harry Potter's sibling who, according to Bella, should be attending Hogwarts this year."

Draco was stunned. "He-he has a _sibling_?"

"It would seem so. Not many know of this. Dumbledore was planning to enroll her into Hogwarts this year. Now he is gone - some credit must go to you for your fairly cunning ploys last year that may have worked if not for your cowardice - and the plan, I believe, is still continued. Your job is to find her and bring her to me. I would ask you to kill her but that would be wishful thinking to the full. Dismissed."

Draco left without another word. He was relieved that he and his mother weren't doomed to die-yet, but is also burdened by the immense difficulty of the mission. His mother, fair as the rest of his family, was standing outside the building among it's many weeds. Unlike her sister, who was dark haired and steel-like, she was fragile and anxious, especially for her only son.

"Draco!" she cried, hugging her son close. "Oh dear Lord, are you all right? What did the Dark Lord say?" Draco told her of his daunting task. The truth is, he cannot kill and he did not appreciate being reminded by the Dark Lord of this fact. What Dumbledore had said the night he died was right. He was not a killer. He would have to drag the girl outside of the castle grounds and apparate to the Dark Lord. He could have used his Vanishing Cabinets but no doubt Potter had already blabbed about it and it would be gone by now.

His mother took a different point of view. Despite how worried she was on his first mission, she was almost happy for the prospect of another job. "This is great, Draco. Another chance! This time it would be much easier. Little girls are always weak. It doesn't make any sense though…The Dark Lord has his ways. I'm surprised that Hogwarts is even opening this year. They really should close the place down."

"Yeah, well you know how the staff are, mum. All daft, they are. I can't believe I have to go back again. They're all idiots, I tell you. You know that Weasley girl I told you about? I heard she's in love with Potter."

"Yes Draco, and are you happy with that?" Narcissa gave her son a sidelong glance. He was becoming a man, she knew, but that didn't mean she had to like it. She didn't want her only son possibly pining away for a dirty blood traitor.

Draco knew her very well. "Mother," he groaned. "You know me. I date Parkinson, remember?"

"Hmm," his mother said doubtfully.

"Really!" Draco insisted truthfully. "Besides, I don't care how any girl looks, so long as she's in Gryffindor."

"Oh!" his mother exclaimed. "So you think she's a looker, don't you?

"Mother!"

"Oh all right. Come now. Hold on to my arm. We've got an acting scene to go through and you need to pass your Apparition Test if you don't want to botch this one up. I don't care what the Dark Lord says but you are going to study hard, do you hear? I don't know how you are going to manage but you'll just have to. I want my son to keep his options open and the only way he can do that is if he has enough N. E. W. T. s."

"Honestly, mother," Draco scoffed. "It's all a big joke. No one needs N. E. W. T. s when the dark arts are around. That's what father always says."

"Yes, well your father is in Azkaban, isn't he?" Narcissa inquired.

With a dull pop the pair of them disappeared.


	2. When The Two Shall Meet

The Shades of Gray

Chapter 2When The Two Shall Meet

Harry couldn't stand it any longer. He was pacing back and forth in his room, waiting for the arrival of his Apparition examiner. It should be illegal to ruin someone's 17th birthday like this, he thought bitterly. His room was in disarray; with spell books lying on the floor that had crease marks on their spines as if someone had threw them there and newspapers under a large cage with a snowy owl inside and another hooting blithely. It added to the pandemonium. It was very small and grey and tended to fly around. As it did, it knocked over a picture frame. In it, were two young couples waving. Harry didn't care, though. He was too tense to even notice his chaotic surroundings.

He'd already gotten his presents. He didn't bother to hide them anymore. He was only staying with the Dursleys because Dumbledore had wished it. Hagrid got him a book called _Creatures of the Wild_ that Harry actually enjoyed reading, partly because their noises scared Dudley. Mrs. Weasley gave him a box of tarts and another sweater with a Gryffindor lion on it. The Weasley twins gave him some skiving snack boxes (also for Dudley) and Instant Darkness Peruvian Powder with a note that said they would be more careful as to whom to sell their goods to in the future. Hermione sent him a golden snitch, which was tightly bound in a leather box. _In memory of your father_, Hermione had written, which was thoughtful of her. Ron gave him loads of Honeydukes candy that Harry enthusiastically ate in front of Dudley, yielding very pleasant results. He made sure his wand was visible, sticking out of his pocket, incase Uncle Vernon would turn up. Ron also said to keep Pigwidgeon there since they were going to pick him up shortly after their Apparition Tests. Ron had become of age in March but failed the last time and now wanted another go.

The doorbell rang, causing Harry to jump a mile in the air and Hedwig to glance reproachfully at him. She was not in a very good mood ever since Pig had decided to land droppings on her cage.

"Who the ruddy hell is that?" Harry heard Uncle Vernon roar. He had once again forgotten to tell his aunt and uncle that they would have company. He bounded down the stairs just in time to witness Uncle Vernon opening the door.

"Ministry official coming to test Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley's apparition," said an amethyst robed wheezy looking wizard. "I was told I would find them here." Aunt Petunia took one glance at this eccentric visitor and squeezed her eyes shut. His robes seemed to offend her enormously.

"Er, I'm here," Harry said, causing his aunt and uncle to glance his way. He was at the bottom of the stairs and advanced towards his examiner.

"I am Tomaire Muriel, here to see the boys apparate," said the wizard again. "Not the fat one, thank goodness. You are his guardians, am I correct?"

"Yes you are!" Uncle Vernon barked harshly.

"Very well," Tomaire said briskly, seemingly unaware of Uncle Vernon's hostility. "Is the other one late? His father arranged another connection with the Floo Network. He should be here by now."

"Floo?" Aunt Petunia asked, atrociously alarmed and not without reason. The last time the Weasleys tried to meet with Harry through the Floo Network, half the ceiling blew up. Aunt Petunia looked back towards the sitting room worriedly.

Right on cue, bright green flames appeared in the fireplace carrying Ron in it. Aunt Petunia whimpered softly as Ron wiped soot from his trainers onto the carpet.

"Sorry I'm late, Harry," he said. "Mum wanted me to help with last minute decorations in the garden. Plus the gnomes got a bit out of hand. Fred got bitten again. He reckons it's the same as the last one. You know, the one that he put on the tree last year? It's chaos back there. I tell you, I am not having a wedding of my own if mum's planning it. Downright stressful." He nodded wisely.

Harry grinned and gave him a chocolate frog. "Cool. You ready?"

"Ah yes," Tomaire said. "We have decided for the two of you to apparate to the Burrow right away. Their, ah, wedding, is beginning shortly. When I count to three, you apparate right outside of their front door. I will inspect your remainings and then apparate as well to check on your accuracy. You may fetch your luggage, Potter." It was as if the Dursleys didn't exist, which was just as well.

When Harry came down with his suitcase and the two owls, he said, "Well, bye."

They didn't answer. Dudley left to keep from drooling at the chocolate frog Ron was slowly and deliberately eating and Aunt Petunia had gone off to clean up Ron's mess on the carpet so only Uncle Vernon was present to glare at Harry as he slammed the door shut.

Harry didn't mind, though Ron was demonstrating a rude hand gesture and had a scowl on his face. Harry was glad to see the back of them too.

"OK," said Ron, now deathly pale, his face set in a determined way as he turned to Tomaire.

"Now, one…two…" Tomaire started counting. Harry didn't feel like he was ready yet. He was thankful he didn't eat the chocolate frog himself as his stomach lurched. He hoped he'd make it.

"Three!"

Harry turned on the spot on the front lawn and pictured the Burrow in his mind. He could only assume that Tomaire had cast some sort of spell on the street since there weren't any people around, on the sidewalk or peering out of their windows. The uncomfortable squeezing sensation dimmed. Maybe he was getting used to it. In a few seconds, he was there. Ron came soon after, hurriedly feeling his face to make sure he didn't leave another eyebrow behind. He sighed with relief and grinned sheepishly.

"Well done!" Harry said.

"Yeah, you too." Ron replied, still a little nervous.

Pop! Tomaire joined them. "Excellent, excellent. You'll get your certificates sent to you later. I must go now. Much work to complete at the Ministry. Goodbye!" He vanished again.

"Harry, dear!" Mrs. Weasley cried from the garden. "Come over here, my dear! There's someone I think you should meet."

Molly had insisted I go to her son's wedding. I can't help but think there's something she's not telling me. She seemed rather flustered when she brought me here but she may be just pressured by the wedding arrangements. If _I_ ever get married, I'll take responsibility for my own things. Besides, it's not as if I have parents to help me. I saw the two bridesmaids, the bride and groom's sisters, donning pale gold.

I look down at my black muggle fashioned turtleneck; velvet pants, and long black hair sloshing all over the place, complete with black combat boots. I can't help feeling a little underdressed. If Molly hadn't told me to apparate straight to the Burrow after my exam and that it was _very urgent_, I would have had time to slip into something more suitable.

As it is, I look like I'm attending a funeral. I saw about twenty redheads, all from the Weasley family no doubt. Funny how the red hair is the dominant gene on their chromosomes. There are some other people I don't recognize. They must be Fleur's relatives and family friends like me. I spot a threesome. I suppose it just demonstrates how bored I am.

I move a little closer and pretend to get refreshments. I hear one say, "Hey, Hermione! Listen, Ron's mum just told me there was someone I need to see. Is that you?" Hermione. Hermione. It rings a bell. Wasn't that the muggle born who was friends with-Oh dear. Why did Molly choose such a time? I can't tell him now!

I try to back away. I'm too late. Minerva sees me and heads my way. There's no way to get out of it this time. What would he do when I tell him?

"Potter," she says, "Hallia, come with me." I try to hide my face so he doesn't see it. Minerva notices. "Hallia, stop that. You know you'll have to do this some day."

"Some day," I mutter. "Not now."

"Yes, Professor?" he says. Professor? Oh right, he goes to Hogwarts. Where I'm suppose to when the summer is over. A bit like my life.

"I need to-well, Hallia here needs to talk to you. All I right, Hallia?"

"Yes, Minerva." I don't care what she says. I still try to hide my face in vain. If there is one thing however, that a Potter is not, it's stupid.

"Hey!" Harry exclaims. "You-you look just like me!"

"Well spotted!" I snarl. I turn to face him for the first time. His eyes were as vivid a green as mine, his hair worse, and that scar on his forehead just like I always imagined. I start thinking, this is the person who they wanted. Not me, _him_.

"Well," Minerva says abruptly. "You can use the kitchen, I suppose."

"Why?" Harry asks, puzzled.

"To talk," Minerva replied. She opened the door to the cheery Weasley kitchen. The impression I got was a lot of auburn and yellow. "Please be seated." She gestured towards the two wooden chairs left opposite each other. They look as if they had been set up like that before intentionally, which of course, they had. Minerva started to leave despite the pleading look I perfected along with my Patronus when I was eleven. Harry stares at me again. I try to avoid his gaze. He seems to sense my discomfort and decides to break the awkward silence.

"So, er," he stammers. "I don't mean to sound rude but why do you look like me?"

How could I break this to him? I always knew I had to but I always thought the others would help me. Back me up. "Harry." Here goes. "Harry, I'm your twin."

Harry didn't understand. Why was Professor McGonagall acting so strangely? She was always so composed. And why was this Hallia a mirror image of himself?

"Harry," she said rather sadly. "Harry I'm your twin."

Harry's jaw dropped. "What? That-that's not funny!"

"It's not meant," Hallia said patiently. Something in her voice reminded Harry of Dumbledore. It forced tears in Harry's eyes and compelled him to listen. "You see, you-our parents didn't want me or-or couldn't take me home and-and," Tears began to glisten in her eyes too. "Sirius and Remus were suppose to take me to some muggle orphanage. They took me to Dumbledore instead." Her voice stared to crack. Harry couldn't believe it. _His_ parents abandoned their own daughter? His blood ran cold.

"That's not true," he said suddenly. "My parents were good people."

"They were, Harry. They were," Hallia said soothingly. "I was raised by Kingsley. Do you know him? Kingsley Shacklebolt? He's an Auror in the Order. He taught me everything I know."

"Kingsley? Why not Remus?" There was something challenging in his tone. He didn't believe it. Why would he?

"Remus is a werewolf. Dumbledore thought it wouldn't be safe for me."

"Prove it," Harry said stonily.

"Prove what?" Hallia looked bewildered.

"Prove that we're twins."

Hallia sighed. "I don't know if you've ever heard of this, but twins sort of share feelings. Sometimes I can access your thoughts and memories. For example, you have a weak spot for treacle tarts. And you want to be an Auror someday."

Harry knew there was no denying it. It was like he could sense it in him too. What she was feeling and sometimes, even a piece of her memories as well. He wondered whether all twins were like that. It would explain how the Weasley twins would always finish each other's sentences. "Why didn't anyone tell me though?" he rasped finally.

Hallia shrugged. "They didn't want to upset you. Or the wizarding community. They thought I might even be in danger myself because of Voldemort and everything. Yes, I say Voldemort's name. People think it's odd. They also thought I would hate you." She gave him a watery smile. "But I don't. I just didn't know how you would take it. I'm not always like this, you know. I just need to gather myself up."

Harry was quite content to let her do the talking. Dumbledore knew. Lupin knew and so did Sirius and the Weasleys and nobody mentioned it to him. It was this glorious feeling that filled his heart. He wasn't alone after all. There was someone else out there with the exact same blood flowing though her veins as his. He knew it was silly but he couldn't help himself.

"So, are you going to Hogwarts this year, or is Kingsley still teaching you?" Harry wanted to know as much about her as possible.

"Oh no," she said brightly. "Scrimgeour is giving him so much work to protect the Muggle Prime Minister and we're thinking of appointing him as the new head of the Order too."

"They are?" Harry was surprised. There was obviously more to Kingsley than Harry thought. "What about the Secret-Keeper?"

"They're still deciding."

Something occurred to Harry then. "Wait a minute, how do you know so much about the Order? Do they let you sit in?"

"Are you kidding?" Hallia laughed. "I'm part of it." Harry could tell that despite her controlled modesty, she was proud to say so.

"But they said that only people out of school could join!" Harry was confused and a little annoyed. If anyone underage could have joined, wasn't it him, Harry, the one who was suppose to fight Lord Voldemort? He was still pondering this when the door to the kitchen opened and Ron and Hermione came in.

"Ginny said she saw you come in here." Ron said. "She's not in a very-uh, Harry? Who's the girl?"


	3. Introductions

The Shades of Gray

Chapter 3Introductions

Ron and Hermione stood there gawking.

"Oh, this is Hallia," Harry said hastily. "Hallia, this is Ron and Hermione."

Hallia smiled. "Yes, I know. Nice to meet you."

Ron ignored her and pulled Harry aside. "Would you mind explaining why this-this Hailey person looks just like you?"

"Look, I'll tell you guys later," Harry muttered.

Somehow, Hallia heard him. "Allow me. We're twins. Separated at birth, you might say."

Ron stared at her, then Harry. "You're _twins_? She talks like Looney Lovegood." Harry glared at him.

"Where's your birth certificate?" Hermione asked.

Hallia frowned. She wasn't annoyed, just confused. Harry had no idea how he knew that. "At home, of course."

"Then where do you live?"

"In Cambridge. At 7 Hawthorn Way. Why?" Hallia knew why, Harry thought, she just doesn't want to say so.

"Oh just curious," Hermione bristled with a bright smile. Harry noticed both she and Ron were carrying bags. One of them was his.

"Well, er, we'd better be going," he said to Hallia.

"Where?" Hallia asked. Her eyes flew to the suitcases, then to Harry, and lingered there.

"Away." Ron said coldly.

Hallia, however, seemed unruffled. "I wouldn't do that if I were you." Nothing in her tone suggested unpleasantness but she was frostily standing her ground. Harry was once again forced to remind himself that this was his twin.

"Why not?" Ron demanded. Harry would have to analyze his behavior later. Or at least make Hermione do it for him.

"Ron!" Hermione exclaimed reproachfully. "What's gotten into you?"

"Nothing!" Ron said. "I just want to know what's wrong with our idea."

Hallia looked thoughtful, then said quietly, "He's told you about the horcruxes, hasn't he?"

"Is there anything you don't know?" Harry asked, amazed in spite of himself. Hallia grinned sheepishly. "No, I guess not. The thing is, you need to talk to Dumbledore about a thing like this."

"Hallia," Hermione said sarcastically, "incase you haven't noticed, Dumbledore's dead. You can't talk to someone who's dead."

Hallia brushed that aside. "No, you can't. But you _can_ talk to his portrait, and you can find that at Hogwarts, which is why you shouldn't leave."

Harry gaped at her. Why didn't it occur to him? Of course he had to go back! A large portion of him was glad. He hadn't really wanted to leave Hogwarts. He felt like a part of him was there, and to throw it away would be like throwing away a part of himself. He looked at Ron and Hermione imploringly. They both knew it was the right thing to do.

"Ah, hell!" Ron said. "Mum would have murdered me anyway."

Hermione gave Hallia a smile. A real one this time, and Hallia smiled back. "You guys had better unpack before Mrs. Weasley sees," she said, gesturing to the suitcases.

"Yeah," Harry said. "You wanna come?" Hallia nodded and got up.

"Will you be staying here?" Hermione asked her in a friendly voice.

Such generosity obviously deserved generosity in return. "Oh, I don't know. I told Molly I can stay at my own place but I'm not sure how that went."

"Knowing my mum," Ron said, "you'll definitely be staying. Do you like quiditch?"

Hermione hrmphed as though she didn't like the topic but Hallia said, "I love it! The only problem is I have no one to play it with. The only people my own age I hang around with are muggles. They're all very nice but they're so different."

"Do you have a broomstick?" Harry asked, joining the conversation. They had reached the final flight of stairs and were now flinging the contents of the bags onto one of the beds in Ron's room.

"Yeah. It's an old Shooting Star. They don't make them anymore but they're actually pretty good. I heard you have a Firebolt, right?"

"Yeah, I do. I have it with me." How did she know so much about him? Probably the same reason he knew a bit about her. That looking-into-each-other's-mind-voodoo.

"Well we'd better get going, Ron and I" Hermione said. "I'm sure you guys still have a lot to talk about. Come on, Ron. See you around, Hallia."

They left and Harry couldn't help thinking they didn't like Hallia for some strange reason. Obviously, Hallia thought so too.

"Why don't they like me?" she asked him, as soon as their footsteps faded into the background.

"They like you," Harry murmured. "They just…have a funny way of showing it."

Hallia laughed. It was a wonderful laugh, like the chirruping of a nightingale and the chiming of bells. "No really, why?"

Harry just shrugged. "Don't worry. They'll get used to you in no time." It was funny how he got used to her, himself. After all, she was intruding on his life as well as theirs. Mrs. Weasley's voice came from downstairs. The wedding was over.

"Well," Hallia said. "I'd better make myself scarce. See you at Hogwarts, Harry." With that, she disapparated.

Mrs. Weasley's head poked in the doorway. "Is Hallia here?" she asked Harry. "Or did she give me the slip again?"

"She left, Mrs. Weasley," Harry told her.

"Oh." She quickly withdrew.

"Wait!" Harry called after her.

"Yes, Harry dear?"

"How long have you known Hallia?"

Mrs. Weasley stared at him and said, "Long before I met you, Harry." With that, she turned away, and started down the stairs again.

Harry thought it over. His sister. _He had a sister _and he never knew. Did that mean that he wasn't the "Chosen One" after all? And that he wasn't the one whose mere existence threatens Lord Voldemort? But then again, he faced him so many times. Surely that counted for something. Or did it?

He felt a little annoyed. Everyone had been in on it. Everyone had known of her existence, except her only family member, Harry. He sighed and decided that the next time he saw Kingsley Shacklebolt, he would have to asked him an few questions, namely, how on Earth did he raise a kid without the Ministry knowing?

He decided to ponder this later on as Ron reentered the room. "Is she gone?" he asked warily.

Harry nodded. "What's wrong with her?"

"Nothing," Ron said hastily. "Really! It's just that it's hard to get used to the idea of, you know, another one of us."

"You really think she could be one of us?" Harry asked, astounded.

"Well she sure isn't going to hook up with Malfoy," Ron retorted.

"Speaking of the git, where do you think he is anyway?"

"Dunno," Ron shrugged. "I'm having my fingers crossed he's dead, with his stupid stuck up mother crying over his lifeless body."

"Really, Ron," Hermione commented from the doorway, "you should be a little more sympathetic."

Ron snorted. "Why should I be? That bloody git has been the source of all the lovely little niches of hell at Hogwarts and I wouldn't mind him dying." Harry was going to agree when he remembered Malfoy's troubled face when he was crying in the bathroom.

"Honestly, Ron!" Hermione said, marching into the room. "He may have been an idiot but that doesn't mean we could wish he was dead! No sixteen year old deserves to die at the hands of Voldemort, no matter how beastly they are!"

Ron flinched at the name, which Harry and Hermione both ignored. "Speak for yourself," he muttered, and suddenly, it was just like the good old times and Harry let the thought of Hallia slip into the back of his head.

I know this is really short and everything but hey, this is an _introduction_. Please review with any ideas for horcruxes, crushes for Hallia, what happens to Ginny and Draco, anything. I'll be glad to accept.


	4. Her Muggle Life

The Shades of Gray

Chapter 4Her Muggle Life

Hallia started playing the day's events in her head. She liked to do that. It helped her think clearly and to analyze things in detail. She was that kind of person. She decided to do so up in her room. She had lived by herself since the age of thirteen. Somehow Dumbledore had her live in an old house of his. She suspected he needed hideouts since the Ministry had been trying to track him down a couple of years ago. She thought of wherever he had lived and how empty and quiet it must be, Dumbledore's will hadn't been discovered yet. She wondered how much of it was Harry's.

Harry. Now that she had finally met her brother, she didn't know what to think of him. He seemed very nice but he hadn't shown her any real personality. She wanted to see what made him stick out, what made him different. She decided to ponder this later and go back to the club. Who knows, maybe someone needed a singer there.

She looked in the mirror and decided in was acceptable to appear as it was. She then apparated to the club. It always helped her relax. She had good memories there and for a while, she would forget that was a witch, having to keep her identity a secret.

"Hallia!"

She turned around to see that the club manager, Patricia, was calling for her. The elegant woman looked out of place whereas the rest of the building was full of teens. "Hey, Trish!" she called. "Is there anything I can do today?"

"Oh, yes definitely. We need something to liven things up. Which one do you reckon?"

"Hmm, how about something Avril Lavigne or Kelly Clarkson? I'll just do You Found Me. Do you have the music?"  
"Of course, I do! What kind of manager do you think I am?" Trish always liked it when she was there. She could sing for goodness sake! And there are a lot of people in this world who can't. She stepped onto the stage with the fluorescence lights in her eyes. She saw her audience waiting in anticipation for her song to begin. They really do need something new, she thought. The familiar feeling of being stage struck hit her.

_Is this a dream?_

_If it is _

_Please don't wake me from this high_

_I've become_

_Comfortably numb_

_Until you opened up my eyes_

_To what it's like_

_When everything's right_

_I can't believe_

_You found me when no one else was looking_

_How did you know just where I would be?_

_You broke through all of my confusions_

_The ups and the downs and you still didn't leave_

_I guess that you saw what nobody could see_

_You found me_

_You found me_

_So here we are_

_That's pretty far_

_When you think of where we've been_

_No going back_

_I'm fading out_

_All that has faded me within_

_You're by my side_

_Now everything's right_

_I can't believe_

_You found me when no one else was looking_

_How did you know just where I would be?_

_You broke through all of my confusions_

_The ups and the downs and you still didn't leave_

_I guess that you saw what nobody could see_

_You found me_

_You found me_

_And I was hiding_

_Till you came along_

_And showed me where I belong_

_You found me when no one else was looking_

_How did you know?_

_How did you know?_

_You found me when no one else was looking_

_How did you know just where I would be?_

_You broke through all of my confusions_

_The ups and the downs and you still didn't leave_

_I guess that you saw what nobody could see_

_The good and the bad and the things in between_

_You found me_

_You found me_

How she sings she didn't know. It just came naturally to her. Kingsley had always said she was a fast learner, but this had nothing to do with that. Every fiber of her being ached for music. It was the only thing she didn't pursue in the Wizarding world. She didn't like their songs. The feelings just never showed through properly. In the muggle world, feelings of anger and hatred and love and pain all come through in songs anyone can understand.

Hers ended to all applause. Although this wasn't the style the crowd was used to, they always liked something live. The clapping fell on her delighted ears. She was going to have to bring Harry here sometime.

"Oh my god!" Olivia screamed, "You were brilliant! You really have talent. Too bad you're so smart, otherwise you could be a singer and not worry about your gigantic out of proportions brain being wasted."

Hallia laughed. "Calm down, I'm not that good. Besides, I won't be coming here very often anymore."

Olivia stopped in her tracks. "What do you mean, you won't be here anymore? You always sing here! It's like your career except you don't get paid or anything."

"Well my father wants to send me to boarding school in the autumn." Hallia had gotten used to lying to her. It's funny how she never felt bad about it. She wondered if Harry did. Maybe he stole all her conscience before birth.

"Aw man," Olivia whined. "That sucks! How could you let him? Your life is here!"

Hallia shrugged like she was suppose to. "Maybe he wants me to build a life somewhere else. Don't worry, I'll write. Somehow."

"When are you leaving?"

Hallia blinked. "In a few months. Why?"

"Good, because then you'll have time to party!" With that, Olivia tugged her to the dance floor and started laughing. Hallia did too, even though she didn't feel like it. She wanted to go home and check whether any owls have arrived. She wanted her textbooks but couldn't seem to find a way to leave politely. She guessed she'd just have to wait. Sometimes it seems like all she ever did was wait.

"I really have to go now," she said, after ten minutes of nonstop dancing. "My-er, my dad will be wondering… Say goodbye to Trish for me!" She felt like she was already leaving for Hogwarts. Then again, in a way, she was. She had a feeling Molly would want her to crash at her house.

"Ah all right. You coming tomorrow?" Olivia tilted her head impishly.

"Of course!" Hallia felt better now.

"And you're coming back for Christmas vacation?"

"Definitely. How can I survive without your commentary on everything I do?"

Olivia seemed to be satisfied. "Ok then. Just don't forget me when you're dating a bunch of cute seniors at your new school."

Hallia rolled her eyes. "I couldn't if I wanted to," she replied sincerely. "Besides, I'm not going to boarding school yet."

"I know," Olivia said. "I don't want you to so I'm trying to convince you to stay."

_Well it sure isn't working_, Hallia wants to say. No matter how much she loved this battered old place, she felt excited about going to school with people like herself. Instead, she said, "It's my dad you should be worrying about, not me." Then, she turned into a small alley, and apparated home.

Collapsing on her bed, she tried to imagine her life at Hogwarts, but found that she couldn't. She didn't know anything about it really. She looked around even though she knew no one was there. Surely he wouldn't mind if she just took a little peek? He probably won't even notice. She concentrated for a moment. Instead of the Great Hall she heard about, she got an image of a village. _Hogsmeade_ the word came to her from nowhere but yes, that was what it was called. She saw Harry with Ron and Hermione, his two friends whom Remus had told her were inseparable from each other. They walked into a shop called…Honeydukes, a beautiful name. The memory faded gradually.

Hallia doubted she herself would ever be able to go. Surely visits would be banned. It would be too dangerous. She sighed and thought that at least she got to see the charming place. She promptly decided that she would control her curiosity until the time came for her to see it. It wasn't so long. Barely over a month away…


	5. All to Express

The Shades of Gray

Chapter 5All to Express

"Ron, where is she?" Harry asked impatiently.

"I dunno!" Ron answered. "I've gotta go. Blasted prefect duties. And you know Hermione will have my head if I'm not there."**(She becomes Head Girl)**

Harry sighed as Ron took off and started looking for Hallia in a few compartments. Almost half of them were missing. Harry assumed that families were still afraid and wanted to stay together.

Finally he found her sitting in the back of the train, a textbook in her arms reminding him of Hermione, with none other than Draco Malfoy.

"Harry!" Hallia stood up and beckoned him to come in. He did, but with much reluctance.

"Why are you sitting with Malfoy?" he inquired, disgusted in his sibling's choice of companions.

"Ask him." She gave Malfoy a reproachful look.

"Hello, Potter," he drawled unpleasantly. "Don't worry, I wasn't very willing to enter this filthy place but there wasn't space anywhere else."

"He means his little friends kicked him out," Hallia said scathingly.

"Now watch it, whatever you're name is or I'll hex you."

Hallia snorted. "Oh please. I'm surprised a dunce like you can even hold a wand."

You had to laugh, and Harry did, causing Malfoy to turn slightly pink. "I suppose tutoring has given you an aura of superiority," he said, ever the hypocrite. His eyes narrowed at the sight of them. He seemed to register something between them that made Harry squirm.

"Whatever, Malfoy," he said absentmindedly as he sat down next to Hallia. Why was Malfoy still around? Wasn't he a Death Eater? And didn't he, like Ron, have prefect duties? "What's that you're reading?"

"Oh this?" Hallia held up her book. "It's for Arithmancy."

"Oh." Harry never fathomed why Hogwarts taught math. "Hermione takes that. She says it's really tough, but good."

He was trying to act like Malfoy wasn't there, a feat near impossible as just then he chose to say, "You can't seriously trust that mudblood's judgment."

Hallia turned to him as if until that moment, she had forgotten he was there. Harry had a feeling she had. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me," Malfoy repeated. "The mudblood's an idiot."

"Densaugeo!" Hallia cried with her wand pointed at Malfoy and without a moment's pause, his teeth started to grow. Harry remembered the time he hexed Hermione with this, intending to get him.

By the time he fixed it he was glaring fiercely and bellowed, "Tarantallegra!"

Hallia dodged it and yelled, "Oppugno!" Malfoy's luggage started beating him over the head. Casting Hallia one more look of vindictive fury, he fled. Harry was impressed.

"Where did you learn to duel like that?" he asked.

"I had to show the Order I could protect myself, otherwise they wouldn't let me join. Besides. 'Mudblood' is so offensive."

Ron and Hermione came in just then, Crookshanks at their heel, Ron guffawing about something. "Why was Malfoy running around the place getting whacked by his suitcase?"

"Ron, it's not funny!" Hermione said, trying to look angry when a laugh was forcing its way through her lips.

"Oh, Hallia jinxed him for calling you 'Mudblood,'" Harry said airily, grinning all the while.

Hermione turned her eyes on her. "Hallia! You shouldn't have done that! I mean, I know it's for a good cause-"

"You're cause," Ron muttered. Harry could tell his respect for Hallia had risen.

"-but still, it's against the rules."

"So what're you gonna do?" Hallia asked rather cockily. "Put me in detention?"

Hermione dropped her act and started laughing. "Well…it _was_ really funny. And it _was_ for a good cause…Ah what the heck. "

"Did the trolley arrive, yet?" Ron asked.

"No, not yet," Harry answered.

"Trolley? What trolley?" Hallia questioned.

"I forgot you haven't been here before," Harry said. "The trolley sells food. It's a pretty long journey so we can buy food if we get hungry. Do you have any galleons?"

"No, do I need any?" Hallia was looking a little confused.

"For food!" Ron said, waving his hands in front of her face to see if she was mental.

"It's ok," Hermione said warmly. "We can share. I've got a few, and I'm sure Harry could give you some, seeing as they're yours too."

And with that, it seemed like nothing was different. As if there wasn't an extra person sitting there, laughing and joking. Harry was glad; his friends had finally let Hallia in. He was feeling very friendly towards her himself, especially since she had banished Malfoy from their compartment.

"Anything from the trolley! Anything from the trolley?"

"About time!" Ron exclaimed.

"Come on, Hallia. What do you want?" Harry motioned for her to come and choose something from the trolley. She shrugged and got up. Ron grabbed a fistful of chocolate frogs, ignoring Hermione's protest of, "Ron! We still have the feast!" Hermione just had a couple of licorice wands, explaining that she had used up most of her money for spell books and cat treats for Crookshanks and did not wish to spend too much.

Harry got some pumpkin pasties that he held out to Hallia, who took one with a smile. Once the lady who pushed the trolley had closed the compartment doors, Ron heaved a sigh of luxury, earning him a look of disgust from Hermione.

"Harry," she said almost tentatively.

"Yeah?"

"I know Dumbledore made you promise not to tell anyone else but don't you think Hallia has the right to know about R. A. B. and the prophecy and everything?"

"She already knows a bunch of stuff," Ron said, his mouth full of chocolate. "Isn't she in the Order?"

Harry pondered this for a bit. "Yeah, we can tell her."

Hallia was by now looking at them as she did when they first met. "Tell me what?" Harry began to fill her in on the prophecy. Judging by the look of surprise on her face, she hadn't heard of it. When he showed her the locket and told her of the initials of the man who left a note in it, her expression clouded.

"R. A. B." she said softly.

"What?" Harry asked? There was something in her tone that told him she was excited, and anxious.

"I've been to Number Twelve Grimmauld Place before," she began.

"Yes?" Hermione asked in anticipation. Even Ron was listening.

"I've only seen the tapestry once, but I can still remember it."

"Remember what?" Hermione implored impatiently.

"Regulus Black." Harry was stunned. He didn't want to admit it but he was.

"Of course," Hermione breathed. "He has two of them. And he died because he left Voldemort. Maybe he betrayed Voldemort." The passengers were silent for the rest of the ride, each contemplating in their own heads.

"I guess we'd better change into our robes," Hermione said after a while. "We're almost there."

As they hurriedly pulled their robes on, Harry looked at Hallia and asked, "Are you nervous? About the Sorting?"

"A little," she admitted. "I don't know which House I'll end up in. I don't know if I'll qualify for _any_ House at all."

"That's what I thought," Harry said, grinning. "I thought they were gonna announce that there'd been a mistake and I'd have to be sent back to the Dursleys."

"And he ended up in Gryffindor," Ron finished. "Don't worry, Hallia. If you're not in Gryffindor too, we'll ask people to sign petitions. And from the looks of that book you've got, you'll probably be in Ravenclaw anyway."

Ron gestured to the book on the Pythagorean Theorem Hallia had tossed aside in her haste to jinx Malfoy. Hermione picked it up. "You're taking Arithmancy?" Hallia nodded. "You'll love it! It's a little tough and you might not make it if your brain cells are an exact duplicate of Harry's…"

Hallia laughed and Harry made a noise of protest. "Anyway, it's fascinating."

"I thought so," Hallia said. I've always liked math.

Ron rolled his eyes and slapped his forehead exaggeratingly, "Oh great, Harry! Two of them."


	6. Brief Battles

Chapter 6Brief Battles

They stepped into the carriages, the skeletal winged horses as ominous as ever. Harry imagined Hallia, squeezing into a boat with three first years and bit back a laugh. Once the carriages stared moving, they were alone. Harry wasn't surprised, considering the shrinking of the Hogwarts Express.

"So," Hermione said, attempting to make conversation. "What do you think of Hallia's idea? The one about Sirius' brother?"

"Dunno," Ron shrugged. "It's a scary thought."

"Why?" Harry asked.

"Who knows where he hid it?" Ron lowered his voice. "What if it's in Grimmauld Place? Or some sort of hideaway he's got?"

"Maybe, who knows?" Harry's mind wasn't on that right then. He was thinking about how he was going to strike up a conversation with Dumbledore's portrait. What was McGonagall going to say? "You know I'm gonna leave as soon as I get instructions from Dumbledore, right?"

"Well…" Hermione looked uncomfortable. "We-that is, _I_ hoped that you'd stay."

"Why?"

"Well you'd need a future. You'd need a full education. And N. E. W. T. s"

"Hermione!" Ron looked shocked. "You don't honestly think we still need N. E. W. T. s at a time like this!"

"Of course I do!" Hermione said, firing up at once.

"You don't get it, do you?" Harry said wearily. "Voldemort is out there. It doesn't matter about my education. I've got to find his horcruxes and kill him. I can't do that if I'm wasting my time in school."

"But once you defeat Voldemort-"**(again, another flinch from Ron) **Hermione began.

"No one said I was going to defeat him! For all I know, he could kill me in the blink of an eye," Harry said, exasperated.

"You _will_," Hermione said forcefully. "I know you will and once you do, you have to think about your future and you can't _have_ one if you don't finish your education."

"We'll talk about it later, after I talk to Dumbledore."

"You mean "we,'" Ron said suddenly.

Harry sat up. "Why would you talk to him?"

Hermione sighed. "We've been over this a million times. We're in this together. You can't get rid of us."

"Ok, already. We'll go tomorrow morning then, ok?" Hermione looked genuinely happy and started to relax as she glanced at the serene landscape outside. The carriage came to an abrupt halt; they were there.

The Great Hall was looking as majestic as ever. The ghosts glistened in the candlelight and the students chatted aimlessly about every day, mundane events. Professor McGonagall brought the familiar stool into the middle of the Hall with the worn, tattered Sorting Hat on top. She was obviously the new Headmistress but still unraveled the scroll for the first years as usual. Harry noticed it wasn't quite as long as normally. In front of the startled first years, the Hat formed a mouth in its ragged moldings and broke into song:

_Let me tell you a story_ _that the others may already know_

_When I was new this House of old had barely just begun_

_We knew what it would take for all the Houses to unite_

_But we had failed and now they all had never ceased to fight_

_Ponder my words for now you'll see what this world has become_

_Stay strong stand tall together for the power in you as one_

_Why Gryffindor and Slytherin were the best of friends_

_But what they had before never determines how it ends_

_And had Ravenclaw looked down upon good old HufflePuff _

_As they do now when they used to be the essential hand and heart_

_Listen to my advice and pray we make it through_

_But remember merge together just like our founders used to_

The Song was greeted with clapping. Harry thought it just voiced what it had done in most of the previous years into different words.

McGonagall began to call for people to come up to the stool. "Alves, Stephano!"

A fairly tall looking boy walked up towards the Sorting Hat. His head was so small the Hat enveloped his entire face. A few seconds later, the Hat shouted, "SLYTHERIN!"

"Bosco, John!" A pale, dark haired boy stepped forward. He was fairly short and very nervous. "HUFFLEPUFF!" Harry noted that Hallia wasn't there. Where could she be? He searched over the faces but she wasn't there. She should stick out immediately.

It came down to the last couple. Doris Tamaqua was sorted into Gryffindor and Evan Zadrian in Ravenclaw. There were only twelve new students, which was pitiful.

"Potter, Hallia!" Silence greets this pronouncement; followed by the whispers I knew would come.

"Potter?"

"Another one?"

"_The_ Potter?" I should have known, of course, that they would persist if I left myself until last. But I figure people would have more of a chance to notice I look exactly like a certain famous Boy-Who-Lived if I'm in the line. Let's face it, a seventh year, just entering Hogwarts is pretty odd.

I walk primly to the stool from my hideaway. Minerva miraculously agreed to let me stay there until the very end. I despise staring and waved to Harry when I spotted him. He waved back slowly. I sat on the stool. I'm probably the only person ever to try the stupid hat and not have it cover my eyes.

"Another Potter?" I hear the Hat muse. Some people gasp, and I realize with a sickening feeling that it spoke aloud. Obviously, it wants to milk it in for all it's worth on a particularly appeasing specimen: me.

"Shut up!" I growl, not bothering to lower my voice. I don't want the hat to make a spectacle of me, though I fear I'm too late.

The Hat chuckles. "Now let's see. The rest of your family was in Gryffindor. But you are so intelligent it almost seems a shame. I had precious few like you before-

"Shut up!" I say loudly. A few more chuckles emitted. Which of the four founders gave the idiot thing a sense of humor? A lousy one, never less.

"Very, well, better get it over with. This one has a temper. GRYFFINDOR!"

Harry applauded among others once they got over the shock. After a final glare at the Sorting Hat, I go over to his table and sit down across from him. That's how empty this place is. We were most likely the only ones in our year on this table. It feels rather odd.

"Stupid idiot thing," I mutter feverishly, my thoughts back on the hat. "Did it ever do that before?"

"Nope," Harry said. "The hat's right, you know. You do have a temper." I roll my eyes.

"You're really related to Harry?" this person I've never seen before asks eagerly. I stare at him for some time before I realize I was being rude.

"We're twins, it's a long story it's a long story and I don't want to talk about it." I sound like I rehearsed it from a particularly boring script, don't I? And that's _so_ not rude. The guy looked slightly -ok more than slightly -offended so I said more warmly, "We only found out ourselves a few months ago."

"Oh. Oh ok."

"Hey," Hermione says suddenly. "We don't have a replacement for Sn-Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"We don't?" Ron scans the long table. Harry does too and I can only assume that he didn't find any unfamiliar teacher since he said nothing.

Minerva stood up. "Welcome," she began, "to a new year at Hogwarts. I understand we only have thirteen new students but I believe they will be comfortable as before. And now, before some of you drop dead of starvation," a few laughs follows the remark. I guess Minerva doesn't crack jokes here any more than she did back at the Order. Minerva inclined her head grandly. "Let the feast begin."

My jaw drops at the sight of all the food magically appearing on the table. To see so much, especially in comparison to the students, in one place is just very overwhelming. I see Harry smirking at my expression. Ron starts pigging out so I finally decide it isn't all an illusion and help myself to some mashed potatoes.

Hermione seems to notice too and smiles in amusement. It turns into a look of disgust when she sees Ron, eating like he had been deprived of joy and life for over a year. "Pace yourself!"

"Yeah, Ron," Harry laughs. "You won't have room for dessert."

"There's dessert?" I ask, feeling my emerald eyes widening. This place just keeps getting better and better.

"Yeb," Ron says, his mouth full.

I look at him and then up to ceiling, which had been bewitched to look like the sky outside to see if heaven is playing a trick on me. "I love this place!" I scream softly.

Harry chuckles. "Wait until you get piles of homework. You won't be so happy then."

"Oh I'm not worried about that," I say to them. "After all, they can't give more than Kingsley."

"Really?" Hermione arches an eyebrow. "What classes are you taking this year?"

"Transfiguration, Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Arithmancy, Potions, Herbology, Astronomy, and History of Magic," I conclude.

"History of Magic is boring," Ron says with relish. "You'll hate it."

"It is _not_ boring," Hermione says with a frown, creasing her forehead. "Well, ok it is but we actually learn a lot."

Ron rolled his eyes again. He stops when the dishes start to disappear and the plates fill up with wonderful dessert. He moans pitifully. I guess he did have no room for dessert. "Anyway, I wanted to take more but I didn't want more languages and Muggle Studies would be cheating really, since I practically am a muggle." I hear Ron sniggering and Hermione throw him a glare. I really should study their relationship more closely. "I'm not good with animals and people say Divination is a useless muggle art used to attract tourists."

"Who said that?" Harry asks.

"Minerva," I answer promptly. "She seemed to think it was unimportant subject." I grin.

"Yeah, she does." Harry nods in agreement. "Then again I don't blame her. That Trelawney fraud kept saying I had the stupid Grim when she didn't have a clue what she was talking about."

"But she made the prophecy about you, Harry," I say quietly. "Give her credit."

Harry's jaw drops. Does he really think he's the only one Dumbledore confides in? I bet he told me before he told Harry. "It could be about you."

Is this what's on his mind?? That I would replace him in being the real Chosen One? I've got news for him. "_'He will have powers the Dark Lord knows not,"_ Harry. _He_. Besides," I say in a very convincing tone, shrugging, "I was never marked as his equal."

"I guess you're right." Why is he so relieved? If I was told _I_ was the one who had to risk everything I had for some crazy messed up evil crackpot, I think I'd have killed myself already. My good humor immediately stirred and revived as Harry finally noticed the treacle tart arrived and helped himself to a large portion of it.

"Gosh, Harry!" Hermione says, sounding shocked. "Stop stuffing your face, you look like Ron!" Harry stopped, probably to reply indignantly that he wasn't stuffing his face. I forget all worries and almost sing out loud. I need to go somewhere.

"Is there a place to take a walk around here?" I ask.

They nod. "Well there's the Quiditch field," Harry says uncertainly like I'm a three year old he's responsible for.

"Ok. I'm going for a while. I need to clear my head."

"Are you sure?" Harry presses. "Do you want one of us to come with you?" Ok, he thinks I'm a two year old.

"Definitely," I say with all the certainty he's lacking. "I'll be back soon."

"Don't be out too long!" Hermione called as I make my way halfway across the room. "I need to show you your room. With any luck, you'll have it all to yourself." **(She, herself, has her room for being Head Girl. Ernie Macmillan, by the way, is one of the rare HufflePuff Head Boys. He doesn't deserve it though. I don't think so.) **

"I will," I say wearily. I feel like a muggle teen being reminded of her curfew or something. I exit the room. As soon as I enter the hall, the sweet smell of treacle tart, ice cream, and crème brulees dried up like a raisin in the sun. I got a musty smell instead that remind me of cats.

I go outside and walk into a Paradise in itself. A real life Quiditch field meets my eyes, I know this sounds pretty lame but I had never actually seen one before. In fact, apart from the Order, I have barely any contact with the Wizarding world. The glorious feeling of being outside washes over me and I stay this way for a minute or two. I then decide to actually walk.

Over the luscious grass I trek, nowhere in particular. It's not as if I'll get lost. I have my wand with me, and despite the loss of Dumbledore almost staring me in the face, I feel safe. I want to go into the forest. I feel a strange pull towards it but something tells me I shouldn't go there, so I stick to the Quiditch field. The sky was a lovely pale indigo and the thin sliver of moon was caught entirely within the branches of a proud oak tree. Even the willows around it seem to straighten. It's what I call a classic, a perfect day. You don't get a lot of those, maybe seven or eight in a lifetime. I hear a rustle somewhere to my left and freeze. I guess the endless hours of drill practice with Kingsley and Remus back in the day paid off.

It's just some people taking a walk as well. I feel my tensed shoulders relax. They're going to bother me. What would they want? I thought something more sinister was around. I try to stroll past them but one of them whispers to another and they laugh softly. That should have been my warning.

The whispering one lunges suddenly and pushes me to the ground. I blink confusedly. For some reason, I get his name from nowhere. It's Zabini; a strange name. I admit he caught me off guard. "Well, well, well." He has a voice like ice and prominent features that would have been good-looking if it weren't pulled into a leer. I don't like it and I don't plan on hiding it.

I run through my choices. I can let them do whatever they want and thank god that I'm alive. I can insult them until they crack. Tempting, but there are four of them and I cant get them all riled up at once. Plus guys are very rash. They have no planning. I could jinx them like Malfoy, risking detention. I could just try to get up and hope they leave me alone. Might as well give it a try.

I struggle up only to be kicked back down in the ribs by a skinny looking one whose name I can't grasp. It's Nox. No, that's a spell. Nott, that's it.

I clutch myself tightly and bite back a scream while they laugh cruelly. Right, I'll curse them until their hair fall off! I fumbled in my robes for my wand, ignoring the dull, throbbing pain in my abdomen. "Stupefy!" I yell. The largest one stiffened, and fell to the ground.

"You stupid bitch," Zabini growls, aiming another kick at my ribs and gets me in the chest instead. I swallow another scream and bite my lip. A metal taste eats away at my tongue. Great.

I'm glad for one thing, though. They're so thick that they forgot to disarm me. I still had it pointed at them. "Petrificus Totalus!" I say the first spell that comes to my head. It was an old one. I must have learned it a lifetime ago. Nott plummets down. I notice they don't revive their pals. I curl into a ball to wait for the beating I know is sure to come and try to think of a good spell.

I hear Zabini curse under his breath but the next kicking I anticipated never came. Like the sun waking the dawn of light at the break of day, someone says, "What are you doing?" He says this in a hostile tone so I didn't feel like he would harm me. And if he did, well, that would just be one more to exterminate.

I look up tentatively (yes, I know, I'm pathetic) and see my sun god savior.

--------------------------------------------

**Ok, so it took super long since I think it's the longest yet. Like anyone cares. I'm a bit rusty at titles so please forgive me. And I apologize for the atrocious and appalling Sorting Hat song but I had to plug something in there that rhymes. I'm horrible at poems too. Please review. Not that I want to sound whiny but I'll give you cookies!**


	7. Tendrils

Disclaimer: (Who reads these anyway? "I do not own Harry Potter, not even Daniel Radcliffe.' I mean really, if you can't figure out I don't own Daniel Radcliffe, then you're as thick as me. And I'm one of a kind. ONE OF A KIND, I TELL YOU! Uh…ignore that. It was funny in my head) Forgive me, I am only twelve, which is the reason why this thing stinks. Many apologies, can you ever forgive me? Ok, enough groveling. PLEASE REVIEW! I beg of you.

Some things you'll need for this chapter:

A preferably empty house in which you can scream at the author's stupidity.

A concrete wall to bang your head on and curse while waiting for the next chapter.

A keyboard so you can type out a review, hehe.

Cookies because you'll need your own to reward yourself once you finished reviewing.

Chapter 7 Tendrils

I'm sick of it all. Stupid Potter still thinks he's all that with his new pal. I have to get her by herself. She has to be the one the He's looking for. I mean, how many female versions of Potter can there be in the world? I never liked the feast all that much. It's nothing compared to what we have back at the Manor, so I skipped. I can't believe she hexed me though. Who does the Potter brat think she is? Really?

So I'm sitting here in the Quiditch stands on a bitter cold night staring off into the forest just because of some stupid girl who happened to beat me on the head with my suitcase. Every Malfoy's dream. I wonder what father will say if he finds out. I don't think he knows I'm a Death Eater yet. I don't really want to be one. Fighting Aurors isn't my thing. I'd rather stay on the sidelines passing snide comments. But no one disobeys the Dark Lord. That's what father used to say, anyway. The 'imperiused scene" was quite a laugh. I never knew mother still had any flirting left in her. I always figured she forgot it all when she married father.

I hear a commotion and I see some sparks not far away. I suppose it's because of my immense boredom, but I follow them like a dog on a trail. Another spark shot out. I figure I should quicken my pace. I run my fingers through my hair. Mother had finally convinced me to cut it. I think she doesn't want me looking like father. Fat chance of that. His is down to his back.

"Hey, what are you doing?" I call out, trying to gather authority in my voice. I stop abruptly as I see who's there. All my old…er, how should I say this? Housemates? Sure, them, well they were gathered around a girl lying in the grass. Oh no, not that girl. _The_ girl. I know what you're thinking, god, Draco Malfoy's not suppose to be afraid of anything and definitely not a girl. Well, whatever. All of them were there. Nott, Zabini, Crabbe, _and_ Goyle. Nott and Crabbe were down. I want to stay away. Another reason I'm not at the feast is because I don't know how the others will react when they see me. I want to put it off for as long as possible.

I don't know what to do. I rarely do these days. On one hand, I want to join in, who knows, it might be fun. On the other hand I can't. If I don't lie low, I'll be expelled and I'll fail. I can't be too suspicious. (Slughorn already gave me this look I don't like when I met him in the train on the way to hide in the bathroom. So sue me, I'm wretched.) I could help her. Yeah right, she hexed me! But it might make my job easier. Hmm. What matters more, my dignity and reputation of being heartless and cruel or the life of my mother and pride of the whole family? A stupid question really. That's it though. I'm not doing this for some half-blood Potter. I'm not even doing it for myself. I'm doing it for the family honor and my mother's head. Suddenly, it doesn't seem so bad anymore.

Back to the scene at hand. So Goyle stares at me like I've sprouted three heads and one of them is chewing on a baby turtle, which is the way he normally looks anyway. Nott looks up from the ground with something I take as fear in his eyes. I swallow a smirk. Crabbe's unconscious and Zabini gives me this, 'what's this bug doing on my sleeve' look that reminds me of the one mother has when she sees Mudbloods. Zabini goes, "Oh hi, Draco. Just having some fun. We're almost done." Potter looks at me like I'm demented but I ignore her.

"No," I say, firmly. Wow. I never knew I had that in me. "You're done now or I'll report you to McGonagall." Ok, that was lame, but stupid Slughorn's not gonna do anything. He's too lenient.

Zabini drops the casual buddy act and barks a loud, harsh laugh. "Lets get a few things straight. You shirked your prefect duties. You quit quiditch." Ha, that rhymed. Well, not really. It's more alliteration. How does he know they took away my prefect and quiditch privileges anyway? Stupid ministry official must have blabbed. How many times have I said stupid now? I'm running out of adjectives. "I get to replace you in both of those. _I_ could report _you_."

"For what?" I demand. What the shit is this idiot (Yippee, new adjective!) git talking about? Zabini just smiles and sort of nods to Goyle.

Without warning, Goyle bends down and grabs the girl, who had been silent for the entire time, by the hair, dragging her up. She yelps and tries to bat his hand away. He twists her arm cruelly. I wince.

Zabini notices and smirks. Smirking used to be my thing. "Getting soft, aren't we, Draco?" I don't know why, but one thing always leads to another and right now, my wincing is leading to a sudden urge to slug him and wipe that smug smile off his face. Which is exactly what I did. He held his nose in shock. I can see Potter still struggling against Goyle and trying to kick him, but his grip is like steel and he just grunts.

Zabini pulls back, and hits me square in the jaw. It stings but I ignore it. I fish my wand out of my robes, and mutter, "Sectumsempra," praying I said it right while concentrating on my much hated one's face. Who knew that the "Chosen One' could teach me something?

To Zabini's horror, a diagonal line cuts across his features. Not enough to hurt much, but definitely enough to scar. Goyle drops the Potter girl, who scurries off somewhere, then points her wand at Zabini. I remember how long it took to fix my teeth and hastily step out of the way. Zabini, of course, is actually a coward, so he scampers away. Goyle follows with one last puzzled look at me. This doesn't disturb me. He's always confused about something. What's-her-face (still don't know her name!) murmurs something and Nott bolts upright. So does Crabbe, in a more clumsy fashion. When they see Goyle and Zabini's retreating backs, they hasten to follow.

Whatever-her-name-is (don't you just love my colorful vocabulary?) stands there resolutely for a few seconds, then collapses, holding her stomach, moaning softly. What am I suppose to do now? I did it, right? I got those oafs out of her hair. Now all I have to do is…what do I have to do? Why did I get myself into this mess again? Because I'm not sure it's worth it anymore.

I stare down at her. "Er…well, are you ok?" She looks up at me disdainfully. Right, Mr. Idiot. What does it look like? "What's your name?' That's a great way to start. You can't kidnap someone without knowing her name. I need to make a list of dos and don'ts.

She looks uncertain. Funnily enough, I don't blame her. I mean, I _am_ nuts, aren't I? "Hallia," she says after some time. Another H. Why don't these people understand that twins with rhyming/similarly lettered names are dorky, not cute? Harry and Hallia. Padma and Pavarti.

"Ok, uh, Hallia. Shouldn't you go back, now?" My jaw was still aching. Damn that Zabini.

"I'd love to," she starts to snarl, straightening up at once, "but I'm having some problems with that right now, thanks to your friends."

"Hey if it wasn't for me, you'd be dead right now," I retort angrily. I fully have the right to be enraged. I practically save her life and all I get is lip. All Potters are the same. "Besides," I mumble, "they're not my friends." As I say this, it suddenly hits me that it's true. They're _not_ my friends. They never were. But if they aren't, who are? The answer is simple really: I have none. Oh well, no big loss. I stare at Hallia for a bit, and then offer a hand to help her up. Maybe this won't be too hard after all. I wonder if we still get Hogsmeade trips this year. Then it'll be easy. Take her out on a date; guide her to some quiet corner, apparate and boom! Mission accomplished. I escape an eternity in hell (that probably _is_ where I'm going) and we all get one less Potter in the world. Win win. Well, except for Hallia, but whatever. She doesn't count.

She takes it warily. So we need to work on trust before the asking-out-and-delivering-to-Dark-Lord part. Then slowly, hesitantly, she grasps my arm with both hands, and I pull her up. Can't believe I touched a half-blood without punching her guts out. What's wrong with me? Oh yeah, the plan.

One arm still onto mine, she looks at me, perplexed (where did I learn that word?), and raises her wand. She's still gonna jinx me?? She points at my jaw really fast, and says, "Episkey." I feel it mend. Oh, ok. So she's not so horrid. Too bad she's related to Lightning Pothead.

"I-thanks," I say awkwardly. Why am I always so freaking awkward? This girl's driving me bananas. This thing is getting nowhere. Maybe I should wait for Christmas. Hopefully she'll be going on vacation. At least the there's a chance she'll be out of Hogwarts grounds.

She nods and looks at me like she doesn't know what she did. The she slides her hand out of mine, turns and leaves, her grace only marred by a limp in her walk. I trace my jaw with my fingers and stare dumbly. Good Lord, it's somebody else's turn to suffer. I have no idea what to do and what just happened. I can feel a headache coming. I'm thinking too much. They'd better let us have Hogsmeade visits.

I know what you're thinking. Lame, lame, lame, lame, lame, lame, lame. Well, the truth is, I don't know what to do with this thing. Should they get together? Should evil Draco break Hallia's heart? Should Draco turn good? And most importantly, should Hallia die in the end? Tell me by reviewing! The first tendrils of a bond creep between them. Should it mean anything??????


	8. Listing

Disclaimer: I have no cookies.

Sorry it took a while, not that anyone reads this though because I know ALL decent reader REVIEW!!!!!! No, I get SEVEN Chapters and NO reviews. Run off into a corner and cries her heart out (wait a second, I have a heart???) The point is, I need the support.

Several artifacts you will need for this story:

Some sort of a club. I don't want you hitting me when the story gets lame but I'm sure you all have younger siblings who would only be happy to stand in as an effigy of me. Just make sure they're not too ugly.

Tissues. I'm positive you all feel sorry for me and my stupidity, so feel free to cry your heart out like me because I am so thick.

A pillow to punch if you don't have a club _or _a younger sibling. Older siblings tend to get annoyed when you hit them. I wonder why.

Cookies………Well you need some thinking food. Just no bananas, my brother will go…well, bananas!

Eyelash curler. They're really painful so I don't mind if you smash those.

Chapter 8 Listing

Ron looked forlornly as the desserts evaporated, one by one. McGonagall stood up. Harry swiveled his head to face her. He wanted to hear what she had to say.

"As you all know," she started, "Lord-" she had trouble saying the name. Harry had a feeling she was doing this for Dumbledore. "Lord Voldemort is once again in our midst. Very few of us have returned to Hogwarts but we still want to strengthen security measures. Aurors will be posted at the entrances and future trips to Hogsmeade for fourth, fifth, sixth, and seventh years are soon to be decided. Everyone is to be reminded of the fact that the Forbidden Forest is, hence the name, forbidden. People should not roam idly around the third floor (or whatever floor the Room of Requirement 's in). I have been asked to remind you that magic is not to be used in the halls and that any products from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes shall be banned." Harry sighed. It sounded like old news. He didn't really care whether he'll go back to Hogsmeade or not and he has no plans for the Room of Requirement whatsoever.

"I shall continue to fill the post of Transfiguration teacher but, as always, we are one staff member short. I would like you all to welcome Professor Nymphadora Tonks who will be your Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher for a year." Once again, Harry was forced to experience an eerie silence as Professor Tonks walked into the Great Hall as if on cue and said, "Minerva, please _don't_ call me Nymphadora."

After the polite clapping receded and they were all told to go to bed, Harry, Ron, and Hermione went up to Tonks to congratulate her. "Wow, Tonks," Hermione gushed. "What did Lupin say?"

Tonks blushed a delicate scarlet. "Oh, nothing. And that's _professor_, to you, Miss Granger." She winked and left.

"Tonks, a teacher," Ron muttered to himself.

"What?" Harry asked.

"Well it's just that, well she's a bit clumsy and who knows, maybe she'll botch the lessons."

Harry frowned. "Well I guess you're right, but Lupin likes her," Harry grins, "and that's all that matters."

"Harry! Ron, Hermione!"

They turned around to see Hallia, panting, clutching her side, and looking a little unfocused. "Are you ok?" Harry asked immediately.

"Of course." Hallia rolled her eyes. "I was just running, you know. I was out a bit longer than I expected." Harry somehow knew that there was more to it, but decided not to pester her since he was tired and it looked like so was she.

"I'll show you to your room," Hermione said. "Come on this way. Ron, we have to lead the first years to the portrait hole." Ron grumbled a little but followed her and looked away while she cried, "First year Gryffindors, come here! The portrait is this way. Password is _Countenance_."

They go into the common room. Harry hears some of the first years gasp and grinned again. The overstuffed armchairs, sizzling fireplace, and burgundy walls must look entrancing for the first time. "We'd better hurry up and go to bed now. Tomorrow, we're going to see Dumbledore's portrait."

"Do you think the password is still a sweet?" Hermione asked, making conversation.

Harry shrugged. "Probably. I don't think Professor McGonagall would change stuff."

"Are you going to leave afterwards?" Harry smiled. He knew Hallia wanted him to stay. Even he wanted to stay. He wanted to finish Hogwarts and start a real career and have a normal, peaceful life, for a wizard. Instead, he's getting more media attention than he could bear, an utter nutter who wants to kill him, and a portrait of a dead man to talk to. He supposed that life just wasn't normal. He could deal with that, for the time being.

Things Not To Do When Trying To Capture A Potter:

Stare idiotically into space thinking about…things. That's right, not people, _things_.

I crept into the common room after making sure the others were asleep. Wish I had an invisibility cloak. It would make life so much easier. So under the covers of my four-poster and by the light of my wand, I decide to make a list. That really demonstrates how bored I am, doesn't it? I am also new at this sort of thing. I am no Death Eater, why did I become one again? Oh yeah, he threatened to kill me. Ha. Funny how you can be so easily manipulated in the face of death. Stupid mark will probably never come off.

ASK THEM FOR THEIR NAMES!!!!

It's not necessary. I don't care if the girl's name is Hallia. It is none of my business. What _is_ my business, is how the hell I'm gonna bring her to the evil bald-as-an-egg Dark Lord.

Make it seem like I'm impractical and thick.

Oh, and note to self, garbling nervously for no reason in particular: thick. There. With these three not to dos I should be able to stay out of trouble. Who am I kidding??? I am in BIG trouble. Why, you ask? Because you're here listening so I can't say it. Go away and I'll say it. Go on. Go away, far away.

I don't think I need to bother writing a lame list of dos. There's only one. Deliver target to recipient. There, simple. Simple to memorize, anyway. I'm so doomed. "Nox," I whisper into the darkness. One disadvantage to being in Slytherin is the fact that nobody's scared of the dark magic around. We're still all cramped together in this dratted dormitory and six of the thirteen midgets are in Slytherin. What I wouldn't give to be alone. And don't make fun of me; I already know I'm alone. I don't mean I wish I had any friends, I just wish my fellow roommates would leave.

Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god. I am in shock. No, not because of the fact that the dorm room I can have all to myself is absolutely gorgeous. Not because I am finally here, in Hogwarts after all these years of begging and pining. Not even because I had a huge two-second crush on the train before Harry showed up and proved that the guy was a total git. No, no, no, no. I'm not as lucky as that. It's because said pre-crush scared off a bunch of seventh years who were prepared to kill me. Why did he take out his stupid wand? Better question, why did _I_ take out _my_ stupid wand? He could have healed himself if he wanted to. Admittedly, it would be rather awkward since he would have to point his stupid wand at his face…

Something else just occurred to me. What if HARRY knows? He didn't say anything but what if he does? He is totally aware that we have this connection thing. I know I thought it was pretty neat but what if he uses it on me? There is no way I can use Occlumency because there's no way I can concentrate tonight. I wonder if I can make the place soundproof because I need to scream. Finally, I decide to do what I always do when I get baffled. I step out of my bed rather reluctantly and gather my notebook from my trunk. I then perch myself at the windowsill and open the book up to the next clean page. It's a little uncomfortable but I'll make do. I pretend the moon is full. Now, I stare at it and attempt to see a face. Annoyingly, it was Malfoy's. I shake my head to clear it and look back up at the moon.

"So," I murmur to myself (NO, I am _not_ insane, the book starts scratching out my every word), "why did he do that? There must be something he wants." I pause for a moment and wonder. I settle on getting the basics down first. "All right. Draco Malfoy. Age seventeen. Pureblood Slytherin. Was a Death Eater involuntarily, or so he says. Father, Lucius Malfoy, locked in prison for breaking into the ministry along with Death Eater cronies. Mother, Narcissa Black." Now for the other facts to tie in place. There isn't a lot to go on, but I've had worse. I keep everything in my commonplace book (that's what I heard it's called in a muggle book I came across). It's much more than it seems. It's also a binder to put all my song lyrics and CDs in (it's also a little safe, just incase I need to deposit anything in it). I know I shouldn't work with muggle material but I can't help myself. That book is my life. I put spells on it just incase someone gets hold of it. The point is, I don't know where to go with this Draco Malfoy info thing.

"Considering his background, whatever he wants has to do with something dark. Not necessarily, of course, but it's a start. And it has something to do with me because…well I don't know. What's in my background? Oh, right, Harry, and Harry's up to his scar in the dark arts." I smile despite myself. "This means, that Draco Malfoy has the potential to be an enemy. Must observe more later." I call it a day and rest back into my bed. I know it's odd to record these things but I spent hours doing them on Harry's friends and added a substantial amount to his own section. I like to keep everything somewhere I can look at. It's easier to notice patterns and important information this way. I can remember going back home from that day in the club…

_I realized right away that it was difficult to apparate without being noticed. I went up to a quiet ally and did it. It felt strange but I dealt with it. Kingsley always said that I'll get over it soon enough. I looked around the place feeling like I _was_ leaving already. Olivia's words really got to me. What would it be like? It was then that the seeds of doubt started to gnaw at me. What if Harry isn't all that? What if he's just like our parents? I grabbed my commonplace book and flipped to the page I had information on him, the first one. _

Harry Potter  
Age-identical to mine.

Birthplace-Adenbrook's Hospital **(this is a real hospital, my brother was born there) **

Parents-Lily Evans and James Potter. Head Boy and Girl of their years. Top students of Gryffindor. He a Marauder and she the average fiery redhead. Members of the original Order of the Phoenix.

Lives-at Number 4 Privet Drive with his muggle relatives on his mother's side: Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon, and Dudley, their son.

Other facts:

Harry has had at least ten books about or including him and his amazing scar and how he survived the dark arts.

He played Seeker on his quiditch team at school since his first year, a feat not achieved in over a century.

He has escaped Voldemort five times in his life.

He has a mysterious prophecy made about him and Voldemort by Sybil Trelawney who declared, "Neither can live while the other survives."

He's my twin brother.

He has very supportive and protective friends.

He created a stag Patronus when he was thirteen, only two years behind me.

He seems to blame himself somehow for Dumbledore's death as well as Sirius'.

He is touchy when mentioning Hogwarts and had planned to leave it before I convinced him not to.

He is a Parselmouth. Rumor has it that he was the Heir of Slytherin when it actually turned out some of Voldemort's powers rubbed off of him when he tried to kill him.

He gets very tense and even blushes sometimes when he **(Hallia fell asleep, forgetting all about her flashback) **


	9. I Face My Sibling

Chapter 9 I Face My Sibling (and a fat lot of good it did me)

I wake up to the sound of yelling, not a good omen. Whatever happened to being awaken by the cheeping of birds or the ringing of church bells? Oh, right, they don't have churches in Hogwarts. I turn blearily, trying to shut out the voices, but they got to me anyway. Just floated right into my ear.

"I'm telling you it was real!" I snap out of my revere. Isn't that Harry?

"You do remember the last time you had disturbing dreams? Voldemort is just trying to get you all worked up. I mean, Hallia and _Malfoy_?" That has to be Hermione. I jump about a foot in the air, flinching at my ribs. He knows! He knows! What on earth am I going to do?

"You can ask her when she gets up," Ron says placating. "Meanwhile, lets go get some breakfast." I thank Ron silently for his appetite, gather my robes, put them on, and walk out slowly. I need to prepare myself. I need to use Occlumency! I also need some breakfast.

I bound out of the common room, and plunk myself into a seat near them in the Great Hall. I still have a little trouble establishing my whereabouts from time to time but for the most part, I have Harry's memories to guide me.

"Hey!" I pant. I never dressed so fast before. Maybe that's a skill I should learn.

"Hallia." Harry pounced on me at once. What happened to giving your siblings some space? "Tell me, what did you do when you were out yesterday?" Hermione looks a little uncomfortable and Ron starts to clamor with his knife and fork against his pancakes, making a very irritating and loud noise.

"Nothing," I say with pure innocence miraculously woven into my voice. "Why?" I smile sweetly. If I weren't such a good singer, I'd be a damn good actor. Oh, narcism, sorry. "Is something wrong?"

Harry looks as if he's having a mental battle in his head. My act was convincing, wasn't it? So there is no reason he should suspect anything. And to be completely honest, nothing did happen. Nothing apart from a bunch of asshole Slytherins trying to kill me, and one asshole Slytherin doing his best to confuse me, keep me up at night, and give me a splitting headache. Oh, nothing happened at all. Harry still looks unconvinced but doesn't say anything else.

All of a sudden, a myriad of owls floated into the Great Hall. I somehow bite back a gasp and Harry grins. "What?" he says blithely. "You never saw our mail being delivered before?" I sneer at him playfully.

"When are we going to see Dumbledore?" I ask. I want to be prepared in my campaign to persuade Harry to remain at Hogwarts. Just to maintain my sanity. This place is crazy!

"Ah, um, soon," Harry replies. Hrmph. I'm not about to take that as an answer. He's getting apprehensive. He probably promised himself he'll leave after that no matter what or something. That's ok. Breakfast ends in ten minutes and I have tons of nagging left in me.

"Are you sure?" I ask mildly, as if my mind wasn't really concentrating on what I was talking about. "I mean, how soon is soon?"

"Really soon," Harry says stonily. "Right after breakfast." Darn he was a hard nut to crack.

I decide to change tactics. "Have you made up your mind yet?" I say really quietly. "About staying or leaving?" He narrows his eyes at me. Oops. He's on to me.

"Hallia," he risks a warning growl. "I know what you're doing."

"Aw, am I busted then?" I ask impishly. "Because I really don't want you to go because then I'll either have to go with you and miss Hogwarts or stay, mad at myself for chickening out. I don't want to put so much pressure on myself." I smile cheerily.

Ron raises an eyebrow. "Man, she's good," he whispers. "_I_ almost wanted to stay." Hermione giggles.

Harry frowns. "You ALL think I shouldn't go to Godric's Hollow?"

I pretend to look around and ponder the question. Two seconds go by. Ok, that's enough thinking. "Pretty much."

Harry gives one final glare. He has to give in. "Fine, I won't be leaving for Godric's Hollow. Or the orphanage. Or any other place I was planning to go." He sighs heavily, putting on an air of regret.

"Oh, cut the act," I retort. "We all know you never wanted to leave Hogwarts. Are you still planning on talking to Dumbledore's portrait? Because I don't think it'll help you very much. The picture was probably taken way before he found anything out."

"Then why'd you tell me it would be useful?" Harry furrowed his brows in puzzlement.

I roll my eyes. "Like you weren't going to flee to our parents' graves if I didn't? Besides, I've got his pensieve. Plus Minerva says we need to see her sometime for his will."

"Why can't I be that smart?" Harry whines, playacting. Hermione snorts. "We're suppose to get our schedules today."

"That's great," I mutter, none too enthusiastically.

"Why, what's wrong?" Harry asks. Damnit! Why do I have to have the brother who notices the fact that I don't want to get my schedules if there is going to be any house-intercourse whatever? Because after the stupid patched ragged old hat's lame old song, you can bet there is. Even though I don't think he knows about that. How do I get him off my case????

"Oh, nothing. It's just that I…uh, don't know how the curriculum's going to be like. I don't know what to expect." Harry frowns doubtfully but Hermione totally falls for it and treats me to a full lengthy talk about _Hogwarts, A History: a modified and more detailed version._ Life here is going to be tougher than I thought.


	10. Fitting In

Chapter 10Fitting In

Later that day, after enduring a History of Magic lecture from the most appalling teacher she'd ever had the misfortune to encounter, Hallia wanted to retire to the library. She only had access to muggle books before and they were usually about impractical things like a pair of magical pants or princesses of small populaces. She already had a small pile in her bag and was heading back to the common room.

She was anxious to read them. She was thinking so hard about which one to start with and how many she could read in a night, she didn't notice a figure behind her until it was too late. Zabini crept up to her, and whispered, "Diffindo!" Her bag split open and she got a fleeting image of her brother doing the same thing to some seventh year, which she did not find helpful, before everything in it crashed to the floor. Her inkbottle smashed and drenched her shiny new notebooks and doused her library books in tar-like goo. Her scrolls of parchment were splotched with ink all over them and her safe fell out with a loud clang. Zabini sniggered and walked away as Hallia, with gritted teeth, recollected her scattered books. That crabby librarian will murder me if I return any of these like this, she thought.

Just when things couldn't get any worse, or so she thought, a pale hand picked up a book, _Defying Dragons_, and handed it to her. She took it in her grasp and was afraid to look up. And when she did, there he was. She wondered briefly how much of everything he had seen. She cringed. That Zabini was going to pay.

"Are you ok?" he asked gently. Memories of him that weren't hers flooded her mind. Never had he been kind, she knew that for sure. Why was he now? What did he want?

"Yeah," she muttered distractedly, wrenching the book from his clasp. He picked up her safe and turned over in his hands. He gave her a curious look. She could see sparks dancing in his eyes. No, he hadn't ever been kind.

"What's this?"

She tensed. "Give me it!" She reached for it lighting fast, but he was quicker. She scowled in annoyance.

"What is it?" Malfoy repeated. He stood up and examined it. Hallia knew he wouldn't be able to open it. The magic she used was too advanced, but it still made her nervous to have it in someone else's clutches. What if he took it to a teacher? She'd be in big trouble if they found out she took notes on everyone. She'll be just like Harriet the Spy or that kid in Best of the Best by Marilyn Kaye.

"Give it to me and I'll tell you," she said finally, after trying to control her instant panic.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "Open it."

"Give it to me," Hallia replied staunchly. "Give it to me or I swear I'll hex you."

Malfoy hesitated, and then threw it to her. She caught it with ease. "Let's see it, then. What's your big secret?"

Hallia sighed. "_Exposisno_," she murmured. A series of letters came onto the box, glistening mysteriously. Careful to shield it from Malfoy, she arranged them to form a password. After that was done, came a little pad in which she placed her forefinger until it clicked open.

Malfoy looked impressed and she couldn't help but grin a little. "A notebook?" He scooped it up immediately and began flipping through the pages. "Regulus Black, Remus Lupin, James Potter…" He skipped to the more recent pages. "Draco Malfoy?!" Why did the fates have to be so twisted and cruel?

"Accio!" Hallia cried frantically. Her notebook zoomed back into her hand.

Malfoy shrugged as if he wasn't dying to read it and began leafing through her other things. "Songs?" he scoffed, once he saw her lyrics and CD's. "You have a super-secret box and all you keep in there is a notebook and muggle song lyrics?"  
"Oh, shut up," Hallia snapped. "You've seen what I've got. Hand it over."

"Not yet," Malfoy replied, still flipping through her pages. "Who's JoJo? I like her style."

Hallia bristled. "No one you've ever heard of, now give it back."

Malfoy looked at her malevolently. "Why should I?"

Her answer came simply. "Because if you don't, I'll mess up your face and there'll be no healing it this time."

Much to her annoyance, Malfoy smirked. "Suit yourself." He hurled it back and walked off. Hallia was dazed but her reflexes made her catch her safe just before it hit the ground, barely flinching when it scraped her nails. This guy was just too confusing for her.

She walked into the common room absently. The people still weren't finished staring at her, even the ones who've never heard of Harry Potter because a friend explained it to them or they knew the cursed hat wasn't suppose to sort you out loud or because they weren't thick enough to think there wasn't anything fishy with a seventeen year old starting school. She was becoming increasingly petulant about all the attention. Then she spotted Harry.

"Hey, Hallia," he said. "How'd you like your first ever History of Magic class?"

She hesitated a while before replying. "It stinks."

"Told you!" Ron said triumphantly to Hermione. "No relation of Harry is going to like History of Magic."

Hermione glared at him. "Hallia!" she said reproachfully. "History of Magic is very interesting."

Hallia rolled her eyes and flopped onto the nearest armchair, remembering that dreadful lesson. "No, it's _supposed_ to be interesting. We're suppose to learn and debate about how much truth there were to the Salem Witch Trials and where the muggles got their idea of Halloween from, not goblin rebellions. Plus Binns has got the most boring voice ever. I thought I was going to fall asleep. Why did they let a ghost teach here, anyway?"

Ron shrugged. "He probably died teaching and never realized it."

"Well the guy's totally lost it. I'm telling McGonagall I'm quitting first thing tomorrow."

Hermione was shocked. "You can't quit! Harry!" She glared at him reproachfully.

He opened one eye under his Herbology homework. "What?"

"Hallia wants to quit History of Magic."

"So? Let her. It's boring."

"See?" Hallia gloated. "Harry thinks so too. Besides, you quit Care of Magical Creatures."

"And Divination," Ron muttered. Hermione glowered at him and stalked up to her room.

"Do you think I upset her?" Hallia asked, worried.

"Nah," Ron answered. "She's just in one of her weird moods. Wanna help me with my Herbology homework?"

She aimed a kick at him then snatched his blotchy homework from him. She sighed at the dismal mess. So this was what it was like to be Hermione. No wonder she was so moody all the time.


	11. A Mixed Up Day

GlPiItTiAer – I really don't know how they survive through History of Magic anyway. I like history as long as it's not about stuff like governments. All my teacher wants to teach is American History. That's very good and all when she talks about the slaves and the massacre but it gets a little boring when I've already learned about it in fifth grade. I love the Salem Witch Trials though, even though they're cruel. I guess I mean to say they're interesting and kind of spooky. I hate Ann Putnam. I say everything was her fault. And maybe Betty Davis.

Darkened Moonfire – Thank you sooo much for reviewing. No clue how much it means to me.

Anywho, I've pretty much decided to give up the story after that chapter but reviewers made me change my mind…hehem for anyone out there.

Chapter Eleven A Mixed Up Day

"What you are trying to say," Minerva says slowly, "is that you no longer wish to continue our History of Magic course?"

I roll my eyes. "Yes, Minerva. You don't have to use the Voice."

"You must call me Professor McGonagall at all times!" Minerva bristles. I don't care if people find out I'm on first name terms with my teachers. What does it matter? I'm kind of regretting this now, though. The coming-to-my-head's-office-to-tell-her-one-of-the-classes-her-school-has-to-offer-sucks thing. She is blowing it all way out of proportion. She furrows her brow. "I expected better of you, Hallia. You used to enjoy History."

Oh, not the guilt factor again. I hate that. Well, I do when it's used against me. "But Mi-Professor McGonagall," I complain. "There is absolutely no interest whatsoever about goblin rebellions of the sixteenth century!"

"School isn't suppose to be interesting," Minerva snaps. (What? I _can_ call her whatever I like in my head! "I thought you, of all people, knew that."

I give a defeated sigh. "I guess this means you won't let me quit?"

Minerva glares at me as though she can see what I'm thinking. Okay, so maybe I play acting games way too much. "I do not approve but you can do as you wish and if you want to quit History of Magic, you can. I will take it out of your schedule. You may go."

I break out into a huge grin and leave her office. I wonder if it's hard for her to be the Headmistress _and_ Head of Gryffindor, _and_ teach Transfiguration. I guess I shouldn't be complaining to her and adding to her mountain of stress but I do have a future and I'm sure it doesn't revolve around midgets with pointy ears trailing around in banks.

So I'm feeling a little better than I would imagine. Harry has quiditch practice. Maybe I could go watch. I don't want to be a tagalong but I really don't know where else to go. Plus I've been a loner all my life until Olivia came into the picture two years ago. I figure I should opt for a change. The hallways of Hogwarts have the distinct feeling of lasting forever. Like if I was stupid enough to walk around it until I came back to where I started, I'd be here until my grandkids graduate.

The walls are littered with granite (I think) and windows. It's a really nice view. Flowers and ponds…wait, that's not a pond…Uh uh. Too big. Then what is it? I rack my brain for the memories that I don't own. It's a lake! Okay, I could have told you that without Harry but it's a lake. Ooh, it's got a giant squid in it too. I thought they were impossible to catch alive. In the real world, anyway. Muggle world, that is. Hogwarts is definitely interesting.

I walk outside. The forest doesn't seem so ominous in the day. Maybe I should go and explore. I've always liked trees. I can see Harry up in the air. I think so, that is. Nope, that's not Harry. Too small. And me with my 20/20 vision. Harry was sitting on the bleachers. OH! Tryouts! Of course.

Harry grins at me. "Are you here to try out?" he asks.

I shake my head firmly. "No way."

He looks confused. "Why not?" Too firmly.

I shrug. "I have barely enough time to study," was the excuse that left my mouth. The truth is that I really don't care for any position apart from Seeker – which is taken. The only one I can try for is Chaser, which is pretty boring and basic if you ask me. The only thrill in that is dodging the bludgers.

Harry raises an eyebrow skeptically. I almost slap my hand to my forehead to stop him intruding my brain. You never know. "You sound like Hermione," was all he said. Phew! I never knew having a brother could be so hard! All the lies and the shielding your mind. It's tiresome. I join Hermione as I sit down and watch the different people fly.

Their names float into my head. Vanessa Seawood flew fast but wasn't good at shooting. Alistair Olsen could avoid the bludgers really well but keeps hogging the Quaffle.

"How do you think they're doing?" Hermione asks me stiffly. Can totally tell she is not enjoying this. She probably only came because of Ron and Harry, which is nice of her.

"They're ok," I tell her absentmindedly, "but Sarah Taylor - you knew, that fourth year brunette - I think she's the best."

"Really?" Harry asks from behind me. "Why's that?"

I turn around to face him. "She has a good attitude. She also flies rather well."

"So does Olsen," Ron points out truthfully. I make a face. I really don't like him.

"Olsen has an ill temper," I say matter-of-factly. "He won't work well with Ginny." **(Demelza was one of those people whose parents didn't let her go back to Hogwarts)**

Harry nodded thoughtfully. "You're right. I'll think about that." After a few more minutes, Sarah Taylor and Hannah Sargeant got on the team and Olsen left the field, sulking. I'm surprised he didn't challenge Harry to a fight. Then again, who would mess with Harry? Not when he's destined to fight Voldemort and all that.

"So," Hermione asks later at lunch. "How are you getting on with your homework?"

Ron groans. "Lay off her, Hermione, no one cares about homework. What I want to know is the difference between a sprig of milkweed and silkweed. Snape killed points from Gryffindor because of it, remember? Stupid git."

Hermione glares at him fiercely. She does it so often. "Homework _is_ important. And there _is_ no difference between milkweed and silkweed. Snape just got mad at you because you put it in your Healing Brew after the concentrated teckah juice."

"Oh," Ron says as Harry and I start laughing. You never have a boring moment with this trio. But what does that make me? The fourth wheel? Yes. A fourth wheel to sort of balance things out, I guess. Who knows?

"What do we have next?" I ask. I have yet to memorize my complete schedule and can't be bothered to probe into Harry's mind to find out.

Harry frowned. "Dunno…Defense Against the Dark Art?"

"Yeah," Ron said. "How do you think Tonks is gonna be?"

"A laughing stock," I reply. "I don't know what Minerva was thinking when she hired Tonks. She's really nice and she's an Auror too and all that but what teaching skills does she have?"

Ron shrugged. "Guess we'll find out soon enough. Are you done with your quiche? We can all go now." For an early start and maybe some alone time with Tonks to press her about Remus and the Order, we went into the classroom before anyone else. I waved to her and took a seat in the front while the others asked her questions. This should be a very interesting lesson.

I don't know what McGonagall's playing at, having another stinking Auror take over Defense Against the Dark Arts. She looks like a weed. And what's up with her hair? I'm sitting alone again, (Blaise and Theo made appoint to stay away from me) and being stared at like I'm the third Pothead.

"All right, class!" Tonks says, clapping her hands for order. She has a lot to learn about being a teacher at Hogwarts. I lean back in my seat, not bothering to suppress the yawns. So uneventful. Except for Hallia. But whatever, she's too busy with her newfound friends to bother me. She barely acknowledged my existence except to shoot me a perplexing stare. I'm still trying to figure out if this is a goof thing or not.

"Today, we are going to learn in more detail about the Unforgivable Curses." Maybe it won't be so boring. I straighten up a little. "As you all know, the Dark Arts are among us and we must be prepared for their most favored methods of cruelty. The Unforgivable Curses, believe it or not, are only the tip of the iceberg."

This speech is greeted with a stunned silence. Blaise smirks and the others look at each other fearfully.

"I want you to turn to page 347 in your textbook **(which should be _Confronting the Faceless_ but doesn't fit in to what I want them to learn)** and read the beginning of Chapter 4 Refined Forms of Malice. Once you are done, I will assign you the homework." It sounded easy (for both the teacher and the student) but also sort of foreboding.

Not surprisingly, Granger (and Hallia) stared around the room aimlessly, no doubt having memorized the whole thing. I haven't so I figure I might as well find out what the refined forms of malice are. I don't know why she wants us to skip so much though. Maybe she's not so bad.

_It is often thought that the Unforgivable Curses were misnomers. The truth is, they are not._

_There is no way around the Killing Curse. Unless you manage to avoid being hit by the spell, you will, as suggested by the name, die. The Cruciatus Curse depends on the will of the user. Pure emotions or even sheer hatred can only lessen the blow. Only the truly evil can master this sort of spell for it requires concentration and a good amount of desire to cause havoc. The Imperius Curse can be defied by rare and strong minds. It causes the victim to become a non-thinking slave obedient to the one who cast the spell until it is lifted._

_The Unforgivable Curses are well known throughout the land, but as their fame increases, the others' lessens. Some of these include intense bodily harm, the sapping of hope, and many others. They are-_

"What'd you expect me to say, you know it's just too little too late." A voice jolts me up. I stare around blankly. The rest of the class is doing the same except for one very embarrassed Hallia Potter.

"Excuse me, Hallia?" Tonks asks smiling.

Hallia's eyes widened. I hear Zabini snigger loudly. "I…uh…" Hallia stammers.

"It's okay," Tonks says, still smiling. "Just don't do it again." The bell rings. How come it never does that when I'm in trouble? And what was Hallia singing, anyway???? "Dismissed. I want you all to finish the chapter and write a three ft essay on the history of Dark Arts."

"What was that?" Ron asked, swallowing a smirk.

Hallia blushed. "I got incredibly bored," she muttered.

"And you vent out your boredom by singing?" Hermione inquired.

"I sing at a club," Hallia explained. "And stop that, it's not funny."

"Whatever you say, Hallia."

I'm trying to make them longer. Review! Sorry it took so long…as usual.


	12. Flight of the Raven

**GlPiItTtAer-yeah, I keep dragging this one out really long. I like 'Too Little Too Late.' Might show up again. I have a slightly foggy idea of what I want to happen in the end but it's gonna take a while. What's the story behind your name? I remember wondering where it came from and how you memorize it.**

**Beth5572-Thanks for reviewing! And just as a sort of spoiler thingamajig, I'm deciding whether or not I want to kill off one of the Potters in the end…I know, I'm evil. Still thinking about it though.**

**By the way, sorry I'm taking a while to update everything but I was printing lyrics for my binder…does that sound familiar to anyone? If so, where else would you expect me to get my writing ideas? Heaven?**

Chapter Twelve Flight of the Raven

Is it safe to say I am extremely embarrassed? I usually don't let my thoughts slip out like that. I still don't know what got into me. Maybe it's Hogwarts, which is becoming less pleasing by the second.

It's like an onion. At first glance, there're just bits and pieces of dried up skin that might be fun to peel but when you get deeper, you get into the concealed, hard to break off, more complicated layers that squirts little droplets of juice into your eyes and form tears.

I swear Hogwarts is like that, especially with Dumbledore no longer around. I can sort of tell there's a feeling of safety missing here. Still, it isn't like me to sing aloud when I don't want to. I'm usually perfectly capable of tuning out the rest of the world with a silent song if the Order's talking about old news or Kingsley was starting to lecture me. What's wrong with me? It's probably memorizing the textbooks beforehand. I should have known that wouldn't work. What am I supposed to do in class if all Tonks is going to do is make us read?

I find it comforting to be in the dormitory. In the common room, it's not so private and there's too much going on for me to concentrate on doing homework or studying. Don't the others ever get self-conscious? How do they live with sharing dormitories in the first place? It makes me feel so insecure that people can barge in at will. Kingsley used to always knock.

Maybe coming was a mistake. Groups of adolescence are just not meant to get along in a small, enclosed area. It doesn't work that way. We have to fight and disagree. It's part of our blood. I have the feeling I'm droning on again. I guess I can admit I have the tendency to do that. I wonder whom I got it from. From what I heard, my father wasn't the babbling type so it must have been my mother.

Now, for the fun: homework. I've already finished Tonks' essay. I start working on History of Magic. I'm getting out the ink and the parchment before I remember I quitted already.

Now what am I supposed to do? Why don't I have homework? How can I resist the temptation? I knew I should have shut the window. As it is, it isn't helping. I tactfully left my broom back home but I forgot Hogwarts has its own. They're quite old but they do work. No one will be looking. No one's practicing. Why shouldn't I just fly? I need a break. I recklessly did all of my homework and read all my library books. What am I supposed to do?

Oh, and something I realize now about books in the wizarding world: they have no fiction. How do they live with that? How can the children survive without reading fantasies and mysteries and ghost stories? How can the girls fall in love with romance novels? How can teens become engrossed in comics? They have a big piece missing in their lives.

I know I won't be able to resist it any longer. The need to fly was in my bones. It was going to overcome me sooner or later…why not sooner? So I get up stealthily. Nobody is watching but I feel like it anyway. I wear a black jacket over my blouse. Half the clothes I own are black. I've always thought it contrasted nicely with my eyes and hair. Olivia kept telling me that too. She looked better in bright red. We're so different. Then again, we are from different worlds.

I stare at the mirror I propped up earlier. I don't see why it matters how I look but I've read somewhere that people can't help it. When they see a mirror, they just have to look at themselves even though they already know what they look like.

It was simple borrowing a broom. Madame Hooch seemed rather nice about it. Sometimes I just have to feel the wind blowing through my hair to calm down. The adrenalin buzzes through my spine and I gaze down at the field and the bleachers, looking like row upon row of string lined up against each other as I fly up higher and higher, ignoring the clouds enveloping my face. I overlook the forest, now that it's in the light, seemed almost beckoning and welcoming.

I become aware of myself and dive down a bit, enjoying the screaming wind whistling in my ears and the rustling of leaves sounding far, far away and my hair sticking to my cheek. My troubles just melt away into the alcove in the back of my mind.

Okay, so here I am, NOT thinking about how I'm this close to dying. Or the fact that Parkinson had the NERVE to dump me. Me. No kidding. I mean I admit it, I have been slacking off lately but that's His fault. Plus I always thought Parkinson liked me for my looks, not my Slytherin status. Just shows you how warped the world is.

Now obviously, I'm not going to do my homework. I don't have anyone to hang out with. I'm walking through the hallways, bored out of my skull, trying not to think the word. The Fates, however, are cruel, cruel creatures.

I decide to look out the windows for some inspiration on how to kill time, and in a deformed way, I got it. Just who, I ask you, happens to be flying on a broomstick right outside? Hallia Potter, that's who. Her name doesn't sound right. I've tried it out, rolling it around my mouth several times and it never sounded right. She should change her name. At first I had to squint until I was sure it was really her. She looks like a raven in the sky, her jacket flapping like a pair of wings. I know. I'm diluted.

Anyway, right when I try to avoid my target, she pops right up. Lachesis must really hate me. **(Type the name into a search engine or something if you're not good with Greek myths.) **Well I can't exactly walk straight by, right? I have to do something…but what? How come I never know what to do???? This is becoming a serious issue. Still, there's only one thing I _can_ do.

I race over to Madame Hooch's and grab a broom before she can yell at me. Then I mount it immediately and head for Hallia's direction. She senses me or something and turns, surprised, and almost falls off her broom. I swallow my laughter but allow a cocky grin to escape me. I'm only human.

She opens her mouth but no sound comes out. "What's the matter?" I call. "Cat got your tongue?" I know it's a dumb saying but father used to use it all the time on his prey when they're scared out of their minds.

"What the hell-" she starts. Then she shakes her head as if trying to avoid an insect buzzing around her in circles – which would be me.

"So," I say lightly, grin still there, "I didn't know you could ride."

"You sound so surprised," she observes, no doubt having gathered herself already.

I shrug carelessly. "Your, uh, brother's pretty good." Okay, why did I say that? If somebody cast a spell on me causing me to make stupid comments, I will murder them…oh yeah, I can't. Never mind.

Hallia frowns slightly, hovering a few feet away from me. "You never got along very well, did you?"

I guffaw. "That's quite an understatement."

She raises an eyebrow like she's actually surprised. "You…hated each other?" **(She is thinking of how this could be a new addition to her notebooks.)**

"Pretty much," I say with a nod.

"Then what are you doing here?" she asks, gesturing to – everything.

"I don't know. You're different." I meant to make it sound like a compliment but judging by the look on her face, Hallia thought otherwise.

"Whatever you say." With those completely unoriginal parting words, she dives to the ground, leaving me in the air looking like an idiot. Which I am. I don't know what I was thinking. What did I expect? Really? That she'll trust me and we'll be best buds until I ship her off to the Dark Lord? She keeps leaving! I obviously need to rethink my strategy.

**How do you guys like this one? Sorry I'm taking a while. I don't know what to write, my mom wants me to study Chinese with her, my dad wants me to read textbooks, I have to help my brother with his homework, I'm going to high school next year…I've got a lot of these. Review!**


	13. A Piece of the Muggle World

**Beth5572-Thanks for the support!**

**GlPiTtAer-Yea, she isn't/wasn't sure how Harry would take having a sister who could do pretty much everything, though I may make that something that gets between them…Anyway, Malfoy always seems so cocky on the outside so I decided to show a different side of him. One that's annoyed and confused and flustered. Wow, I like the root of that name! Xakinera is just a name I thought up for a story a gazillion years ago put yours is way more interesting.**

Chapter Thirteen A Piece of the Muggle World

"Did you hear?" Hermione said, next day at breakfast. "Rumor has it that Pansy Parkinson broke up with Malfoy."

"Why?" Harry asked absentmindedly, more intent on shoving food down his gullet.

"She probably woke up, refreshed, one morning and finally realized what a git he is," Ron said, shrugging. Harry smiled and Hermione's disapproving glare was back on her face.

"No, seriously," Hermione said. "What do you think of it?"

"Well he sure doesn't look to happy," Harry noted, sparing a glance at the Slytherin table before paying full attention to his plate again.

Hallia rolled her eyes. "He's been like that since the beginning of the school year. Surely you've known?"

"Nope" Ron answered unsurprisingly.

Hermione eyed her oddly. "Since when have you been keeping tabs on Malfoy?"

"I notice things," Hallia said a little too quickly. "Besides, I…uh, any idea what our N. E. W. T. s are going to be like? Minerva got me all worked up about it."

As usual, Hermione fell for it while Harry and Ron shaook their heads and nod in amusement at Hallia's pained expression. It got Harry thinking, though. What Ron had said in the summer could…no. It was impossible. Never in the history of Hogwarts could a Slytherin and a Gryffindor get along. It just didn't work that way. Harry shoved the thought into the back of his mind so his breakfast won't come back up. The very thought of it was ridiculous.

What he needed was a distraction. Something to other than homework and studying. Something calming and relaxing. Hermione would suggest reading. Ron…quiditch or chess. What about Hallia? Despite the fact that she was his sister, he didn't know much about her. She sang. She said she played quiditch but she wasn't even willing to try out. Was she just saying that to make him feel happy? There really was only one way to find out. He had only caught snippets before, and that was by accident. Maybe just one little pee-

"What do you want?" Hallia asked sharply. Harry jerked back as she threw an invisible wall against him. "What is it you want to know?" she asked again more gently. She must have been startled.

"I just wanted to know what you do as a hobby in your spare time," Harry mumbled as Ron laughed his head off, presumably at the look on his face.

"I read." Ron stopped laughing and Hermione smirked satisfactorily.

"What?" Harry asked again.

"I read," Hallia repeated. "Come up to the common room with me. Class doesn't start until…" She frowned hard. "Another twenty minutes anyway."

"You can do it to me," Harry complained, "but when I try it, you block me."

"You make no effort to 'block' me," Hallia replied, shrugging.

"I do too!" Harry shot back. Ron and Hermione were shaking their heads at each other back at their table.

"Then you need to try harder."

"Whatever," Harry said. "Why are we going to the common room?"

"You'll see. Wait here." Hallia went into her room, and came back two minutes later carrying a large book.

"Hallia," Harry said in a patient voice. "If I were Ron, I would flat out tell you that I can't read." Hallia pretended to throw the book at him.

"This one is very interesting," she said reprimanding. "There isn't anything factual in there at all."

Harry looked at her dubiously. "Really?"

Hallia nodded. Harry took the book cautiously like Franco took Meg's tape **(I read that part of _The Wish List_ over and over again)**.

"Riddles?" Harry asked disbelievingly. "You like riddles?"

"I do not!" Hallia shouted. "Well, I sort of do, but this isn't a book of riddles."

"But it's called The Riddles of Epsilon."

"Harry, just give it a try, okay? It can't be more boring than say…let me think. The divination classes you had to endure."

Harry frowned at her. "This is annoying. I'm going to ask McGonagall to give me Occlumency lessons. That is how you do it, right?"

Hallia nodded. "Just try it. And if you don't, I have a lot of them so don't think you'll get away with it if you lose it or say 'nothing's happening'."

Harry read the spine and turned it over. "Nothing's happening?" he tried.

"I give up," Hallia said, with a shake of her head. "Let's just go."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

**(The Riddles of Epsilon is my favorite book of all time. Try it some day!)**

Harry was reading Hallia's book during Potions. It was a big risk but Slughorn was old and he was just talking about the N. E. W. T. s and how important they were. For some reason, he couldn't let the book go. Ron had commented that his twin was influencing him too much but the book was really pretty good.

THERE IS ONE MEMBER IN THE CHAT ROOM: JESS

JESS: Come on, I'm waiting.

JESS: Come on, V!

JESS: Come on, V. I know you're there.

V: How can I be here? After all, there is only you in the chat room!

JESS: Stop playing games. Okay then. I know who you _are_.

V: You do? How?

JESS: I solved your riddle. I know your name.

V: Prove it.

JESS: "V is a letter that is not a letter." So V must be a number!

V: Elementary.

JESS: The letter V is the 22nd in the English alphabet. Right?

V: CHUCKLES 

JESS: Which tells me nothing. Because it was the wrong alphabet, wasn't it?

V: You are smarter than you look.

JESS: But in roman numerals, the letter V means 5.

V: Ah!

JESS: Which also tells me nothing. Unless…

V: Unless?

JESS: Unless I go back to the wrong alphabet again! The fifth letter of which is E! So E is your initial.

V: I thought you said you knew my name – not just my initial.

JESS: And the fifth letter of another alphabet – Greek, in fact – has an even more ancient symbol. A bit like half a feather toppled over. And THAT letter is call…

V: Well?

JESS: EPSILON! Hello, Epsilon!

E: Phew!!! At last! I thought you'd never get there.

JESS: But I did. Brilliant, aren't I?

E: Not especially. But you'll do.

JESS: Gee, thanks.

E: So you've been into the small library on the second floor.

JESS: Er…yes. How did you know?

E: Where else would you find a book with Greek in it?

JESS: ……………………………………… 

E: While you're ignoring me, I might as well tell you – you're going to need that library. Use it.

JESS: Look – who are you? I mean, I know your name. And so did Sebastian Wren. But I don't know what you ARE. You seem to know just about everything about me!

E: So why did you decide to trust me?

JESS: Dunno.

E: Don't get all teenaged again. Tell me!

JESS: SIGH Okay, your sign. On the bucket. I REALLY didn't want the doctor to read it. Felt all…protective.

E: Good.

JESS: Why good?

E: Good that you followed your instincts. Good that you see that the fewer people know about this, the better.

JESS: Yes, but why? Why not the doctor?

E: How do you know you can trust him?

JESS: How do I know I can trust you? Even though Sebastian trusted you.

E: Not enough, as it turned out. Not nearly enough.

JESS: But I must be crazy to trust you! All I know is no one can see you on this page but me. You don't flaming well exist! And Sebastian knew you more than a hundred years ago. What are you – a ghost?

E: LAUGHING 

JESS: Don't laugh at me! I'm scared.

E: STILL LAUGHING A thousand pardons. But you're right. Maybe it's time for a history lesson.

JESS: You sound just like my mother!

E: Talking of your mother – how can I put this? She is in danger.

JESS: Danger? Ooooo, the plot thickens!

E: This is not funny.

JESS: Not funny? A minute ago, you were laughing!!!

E: So why did you just look over your shoulder?

JESS: Pardon?

E: Just then. You looked over your shoulder, towards the window. Why?

JESS: ……………………………………… 

E: Yes. I can see you.

JESS: ……………………………………… 

E: But I'm not the only one.

JESS: ……………………………………… 

E: Sorry for scaring you.

JESS: I'm not scared. I'm terrified.

E: So I see. That's why you looked over your shoulder just now. Because you don't just feel scared. You feel Watched.

JESS: Oh, shit.

E: I told you. This is not funny. And by the way, you still haven't explored the rest of the cottage.

JESS: Forget the cottage. Who else can see me?

E: Someone who knows that it has Begun. He is watching.

JESS: Who? What's his name?

E: In your language?

JESS: Oh, yes! Pleeeeeease – not another riddle. They make me throw up.

E: Okay then. Maybe we can call him…the Eye of Miradel.

JESS: The Eye of Miradel? Who do you think you are, J. R. R. Tolkien?

E: SIGH Just go back to the cottage and look for Sebastian, all right?

JESS: Yeah, right. Easy. Go find cute little Seb who lived a hundred years ago. Then ask him about the Eye of Miradel – under a full moon, preferably…

E: You are getting tiresome.

JESS: …with three witches on the heath and a few wolves howling. Oh and let's not forget-

E: Just go to the cottage and go upstairs, all right?

JESS: …and let's not forget that "HERE BE DRAGONS!!!!!" PUTS WHITE SHEET OVER HEAD WhhhhhhhhhhooooooooOOOOOOoo-oooooooooooooo!

JESS HAS NOW LEFT THE CHAT ROOM

Harry couldn't help it. He burst out laughing. Who knew muggle books about fourteen year old girls could be so funny? He thought of all the other muggle things he'd missed, living with the Dursleys. Movies, restaurants, arcades.

"Harry, m'boy?" Slughorn asked him. He turned up. He had completely forgotten he was in public. "What is it you find so amusing?"

Harry stared. He felt his cheeks burning "Oh, it's just this book I'm reading."

"That's very nice, Harry." Slughorn waved his wand and Hallia's book landed on his desk. "We'll have a talk about it after class. Now, as I was saying, one of the jobs in the Wizarding world that absolutely requires Potions…"

Harry slumps back in his desk. Now he'll never get to know what happened! Selfish, he knew, but he really didn't care for Potions. Now he'll have to wait until the very end of class when it had barely just begun. He was getting really annoyed.

**I hope that was copied word for word. I have the book in front of me. I know it's weird, but The Riddles of Epsilon is really cool. I actually liked the end of that exert.**


	14. Uninteresting Wills

**I am so sorry for anybody out there but I couldn't start any chapters yesterday since I just wrote 2 chapters for a new Harry Potter W.I.T.C.H. fic so I had no time. It's only got three reviews last time I checked. Hint, hint.**

**Um, yeah okay. I have no idea what I'm doing. Just to give everyone a warning here incase whatever I write next turns out really weird. Oh and Beth? Just curious, how old are you?**

Chapter Fourteen Uninteresting Wills

One problem I have detected in the Hogwarts curriculum is that they have trouble keeping us, the students, from falling into the arms of boredom. There are always clubs but I'm not interested in gobstones and quiditch is not an option. What else is there to do? The library is becoming increasingly boring. There is only so much you can learn despite what people think. I have learned most of what there is to learn if I do say so myself. Now, I'm waiting for Harry to finish quiditch practice so we can _finally_ see Minerva for Dumbledore's will. It's been weeks. I've been better about spreading my homework out. It is very important that I keep from going out on the quiditch fields again, especially after that last…incident.

"Harry!" I call as I watch him come out of the changing room, broom in hand. See? I can control it. What happened a month ago was a one-time thing. Never again will I go on a broom. Until the end of the school year, that is. I've been holding out for quite a while.

"We cannot hold out for much longer," I tell him sternly. "I know you don't want to face reality when it comes to Dumbledore's death but you might as well get it over with."

"Okay, already!" Harry laughs. "Anything to stop your nagging. Great work, guys, as usual! Same time next Wednesday." It's like he already knows me so well. I have been letting him in _some_ of my memories.Just not the important ones about my social life and the Order.

We go inside. It's not even Halloween yet but it's getting quite cold so I'm grateful for the warmth of the great indoors. Once Harry's broom is put away, we head towards to Head's office. Harry glances at me.

"You don't happen to know the password, do you?"

"I don't think I have to," I reply. I had told Minerva in advance the exact time we'd be there. I like to be punctual.

We can hear footsteps as that unsightly gargoyle sprang to life and leapt aside. "Potter…s," Minerva says briskly. "Come in."

Harry looks at me oddly and shakes his head slightly. I _do_ like to be organized! Minerva beckons us in.

"Now, I know the death of Dumbledore has shaken us all greatly, he died childless with only one brother who was barely mentioned in his will."

"Brother?" Harry scrunches up his face as if he was trying to remember something.

"You mean Aberforth?" I ask. I know him. He owns the Hog's Head. He's a little eccentric but a wonderful bearer of news. Despite it's dusty appearance, the Hog's Head had quite a lot of customers. I never figured out why.

Yes." Minerva nods. "Aberforth. Only a small share of what he owned, which was still a fair bit, was left to Aberforth, no doubt only out of politeness. The rest, including his several houses, a few antiques and prized possessions, (the ones that were found, that is) and an enormous amount of gold, is left to the pair of you." I flinch slightly at her remark and remembered the pensieve, still hidden under my bed.

I can feel Harry tuning out and I sympathize with him. This is becoming rather uninteresting. So we get more gold in our Gringotts bank. I always knew I'd get to keep the house I lived in, and as for the others, well, I know Dumbledore. He probably has a dozen hideouts dotted all over the world. It would be useful though once I list where he has them all so I can stop by them someday and reshape them a little. Now I know what I'm going to be doing for Christmas. Sorry, Olivia. My trip back will have to wait.

Minerva drones on for a while even though neither of us are listening. Then she thrusts something into Harry's hands and tells us we may leave. Harry gets up groggily and slowly examines the scroll in his hand inquiringly.

We head out, not really saying much until we get into the common room. "There they are! I knew they were doing something good!" Ron cries. How do they manage awake? Minerva must have been talking for a really long time since the common room is empty except for us.

"What were you doing?" Hermione asks.

"Just listening to some incredibly boring stuff about Dumbledore's will," Harry replies. He sinks into an armchair and sighs.

"Oh," Ron says. "So they've found it, then?"

"What do you mean?" Harry says quickly.

"Dumbledore was hiding it?" I ask. That was what it sounded like. Was he afraid that someone might take it? And to think I was under the impression I can no longer write about him in my rapidly growing file. It seems that now that he's dead, some of his secrets are being unearthed.

**Oooh. Come on, that's interesting! I'm trying!!!! Okay, I don't wanna sound whiny…REVIEW!!!!!! That's not whiny, that's forceful. Sorry it's so short but I need to do my homework and write a chapter for my new story, not necessarily in that order………**


	15. Into The Pensieve

**GlPiItTtAer-Yeah, I'm planning on Ron hearing it from his dad in the Ministry because…well, the Ministry's nosey and they want to know what was so important in Dumbledore's will! Plus Dumbledore doesn't have any other relatives and Aberforth was a bit weird according to Mad Eye, who is the King…no God of weird.**

Chapter Fifteen Into The Pensieve

"So you're telling me, that Dumbledore's will was hidden?" Harry said. Then he turned to me. "And you're telling me that you didn't know about it?"

"Hey, read my mind!" I shrugged. I honestly didn't, but the fact that he expected me to concerns me. I'm not a giant source of information people consult in order to match information, just a bigger one than he is. "Anyway, it doesn't surprise me in the least that he did hide it. I mean this is Dumbledore we're talking about."

Ron looked at me cluelessly. "Your point?"

"He thinks of everything," I explained. "Nothing gets past him."

Hermione leaned forward in excitement. "Do you think someone wanted to steal it?"

"Maybe."

"Whatever," Ron said sullenly. He got up and yawned. "_I_ am going to bed and I'll leave you to your revolutionary chat about Dumbledore's enemies or whatever by yourself."

"Do you even know what the word 'revolutionary,' means?" Harry asked, laughing.

"No." I wasn't surprised.

"You can't use a word if you don't know what it means!" Hermione cried in astonishment.

"Who are you, the vocabulary police?" I asked. I retreated to bed also. I was worn out from all the will talk. **(Did anyone ever wonder how they showered? Or did their laundry? The house elves can't do everything.)**

It wasn't until after I took a quick shower and climbed into bed before I remembered the scroll. Was it the map of Dumbledore's houses? An actual copy of the will? A list of items left to us, and how much they were worth? I'm still not sure what to think of him giving us almost everything he owned. I understand he died childless but he had to have relatives other than Aberforth.

For some reason, when I am finally able to go to sleep, lying on the bed, feeling tired, I don't feel like sleeping anymore. I really don't know what exactly to do. Then it came to me. Quickly, I got out form under the covers, down on my hands and knees, and slid my arms around the large basin I carefully placed under my bed. I pulled it out slowly, not wanting to tip out the contents. I have never worked with residual memory before.

I dipped a finger cautiously into it and got sucked into its bowels straight away. I was overwhelmed. I glanced around and everything was in full color. If it weren't for the fact that I definitely know Dumbledore's beard isn't auburn **(It was seventeen years ago, I'm sure he wasn't that old…)**, I'd say I was in my own time. It wasn't different shades of brown or black and white like in the movies. There was no way to distinguish between the two. My eyes grew wider. Where am I?

I surveyed my surroundings, cursing myself for not being prepared. How was I supposed to remember enough of this to write down? Is there any way to control what I see? I froze.

There was that house. That foreboding house that shook me in my dreams. The one I was taken from almost minutes after I got there. The first one I saw other than the hospital. The one I've wanted to tear apart, strip down to the last plank, so as to satisfy my hatred. The one I could never reach in those haunting nightmares. The one my parents lived in.

I did not want to see this. I don't suppose I had any choice. How was I supposed to leave? But I got excited. I couldn't help it. They were my parents. I need to know why they threw me away. Dumbledore walked up to the house sadly. A young Remus stepped out of it, carrying a bundle of cloth. Me.

Remus sighed. "Sirius is trying to convince them not to. I don't think it'll work. James never liked being told what to do."

Dumbledore leaned forward to inspect me. "Did they say why they didn't want her?"

Remus shook his head. "No," he said solemnly. "I don't understand it. They are doing perfectly fine, financially. They are willing to work to take care of two children. Neither prefers one gender to the other, they even said so!"  
"Then what is wrong?" Dumbledore asked.

Just then, Sirius came out, with a disgusted look on his face. His hair was black and glossy, his finely cut features more prominent in the faint moonlight.

"I don't know what's gotten into them. They want to send her to an orphanage!"

"What did they say?" Remus asked.

"Something stupid," Sirius replied. "They said that they actually believed that stupid prophecy."

"Which one?" Remus demanded. "The one about Him?"

Sirius shook his head no. I stepped closer, eager to hear what he had to say. "The Prophecy of Deceit. **(The ones in the Underland Chronicles has names)** Lily keeps saying that the girl was troubling her womb or something and bears an ill omen. James actually swallowed that up."

"What do we do now?" Remus asked after a pause. "I can't keep her and neither can Sirius. We have no experience and James will notice it in a second."

Dumbledore thought for a minute. I waited. "Give her to me," he said finally. "I know someone who will be honored to care for such a gifted child." Gifted? I am gifted? Known for deceit and I am still gifted? What does this mean? I can't wrap my brain around it. Maybe I should make a section for myself in my commonplace book as well.

Remus handed me to Dumbledore who took me carefully and apparated. As if the pensieve knew I had seen enough, it tugged me out of its contents. I was back in my dormitory, clutching the pensieve, lying on the floor beside my bed. Minerva has a lot of answering to do tomorrow morning.

**I decided that present tense was too confusing to do all the time so I decided to take a break form it and see what happens. Review! I know it's a little short but it'll get better! Promise. Next chapter's gonna be about the first quiditch match. Gryffindor vs. Slytherin. Remember what I said about Hallia being great at quiditch? And wanting to be Seeker? And Zabini being the new Slytherin Seeker? I'm giving you too many hints. I should stop and confine myself in a quiet padded room where no one can hear me blab because there's a mile of water between me and everybody else. Well, gtg. Gotta order that room! I wonder if fourteen bucks would be enough…**


	16. Quiditch Disruptions

**Potterpal: I know this is my first, which is taking quite a while to finish. I know some parts didn't run very smoothly like Chapter 2 and the parts with Draco and Zabini. You see, at first I wanted the first person parts to be present tense like Hallia and Draco's thinking but then I got tired of doing that all the time so I just tried slipping in some past tense and see how it works. Some parts with time lapses and different points of view may not work because my lines don't always show up and neither does the different font. It's always Verdana.**

**glPiItTtAer: Yeah it took me a while to decide. I didn't want Lily and James to look too mean. I didn't want to spoil anyone's fantasy for them to be perfect…people and stuff. I'm gonna have a hard time thinking up the prophecy though.**

Chapter Sixteen Quiditch Disruption

"I do not know," Professor McGonagall said with pursed lips. It seemed to Hallia she was in this office more often than she preferred. She had been there to steal Dumbledore's pensieve, see his will, give up History of Magic, and now to try and find out about the Prophecy of Deceit.

Hallia leaned closer to the desk, feeling a little desperate. "Miner-Professor McGonagall, despite what you may be trying to shield me from, I know you're lying. Dumbledore trusted you with everything. You have to know."

She was only trying for some careful flattery. However, McGonagall narrowed her eyes. "How did you hear of the Prophecy of Deceit? Very few still broad on it any longer."

Hallia had always been fluent in lying though she could read Latin and speak a little French. "I overheard Remus and Kinsley talking about it a while back." This was actually a pretty daring risk. McGonagall may guess that if what Halliasaidwastrue,shewouldhaveaskedsooner. Hallia was counting on her not to realize that.

"Look, Hallia," McGonagall said. "Not all prophecies come true. And often, this is for the better. Why don't you put it past you now? No one really believes them."

"My parents did," Hallia slipped out. "That is-uh, what Kingsley was saying. I mean, I was disowned. _I have to know why."_

McGonagall sighed exasperatedly. "You already do! It was because of the prophecy! The one that has no chance whatsoever of taking place! Now go outside, it's still rather sunny out. Meanwhile, I'll have a word with Remus, since Kingsley is quite busy, about holding private conversations away from your ear."

Hallia knew she had to leave but she wasn't about to give up yet. She could always go to the library, or even ask Remus outright. Maybe she should spend more time in the pensieve. She headed out, deep in thought.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Good luck!" Hallia called as Harry and Ron disappeared into the changing room. She couldn't help but glance wistfully at their brooms. The air smelled glorious and tense, just they way it should. She went to find a spot in the bleachers next to Hermione.

"So, quiditch," Hermione said to Hallia with as much enthusiasm as an eighty-three-year-old marching off to war at dawn.

"I don't know why you don't like it so much," Hallia remarked. "It's actually really interesting and quite a lot of fun once you grasp some of the basic principles."

"I do like quiditch!" Hermione said hastily. "Just not in the same way you do." Then she gave Hallia a sidelong glance. "Why didn't you try out, though? I'm sure you'd have been an excellent Chaser. You do come from a family of great quiditch players."

"I didn't want to clash with Ha-omework," Hallia answered a little shortly. "Since I'm new, I figured I'd have a full enough schedule just to catch up to the level you're at."

Hermione gave her another quizzical look when Hallia had meant for her to be flattered. Hallia hated that – once again, when it was used _against_ her.

"And there they are!" Zacharias Smith **(I think that's how his name is spelled)** roared. "Gryffindor vs. Slytherin. Let's hope Potter's new range of Chasers can overcome Zabini's crew."

"What?" Hallia cried, trying to make a bigger deal out of it than it really was. "Has that idiot ever even been on a broom? I've never heard him mentioned in the-uh, gossip sessions."

"I heard Malfoy was supposed to be the Captain," Hermione said thoughtfully.

"That doesn't mean that scumbag can just take his-" Hallia then forcefully stopped talking.

"He took Malfoy's place as Prefect," Hermione replied.

"Oh yeah, he told me that." Hermione gave her another one of her looks. Hallia inwardly thwacked herself over the head. How stupid was she going to get? She assumed the prophecy in the pensieve shook her up slightly. She normally didn't make any blunders, let alone crucial ones.

She looked up from her contemplation and realized that Slytherin was in the lead, forty to twenty, which was odd since she heard Ron's Keeping skills had been improving. Maybe Zabini's team wasn't so bad. What was wrong with Harry though? He definitely seemed…tense and hurried. He kept making illogical darts on his broom.

Hermione noticed it too. "Oh no," she moaned softly. "It's second year all over again."

Hallia mentally thought back. Their second year…wasn't that when the Chamber of Secrets had opened? She didn't understand. What was she missing? Her note-taking was supposed to be so good!

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Zabini smirked as he watched Harry dodge the bludgers that were after him. It was a nifty little charm he learned after researching what made that one bludgers chase after him during second year. Now he was free to find the snitch as he pleased. And he could also watch the bludgers smother Scar-head.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Harry dove desperately left and right. He didn't know what was happening but it wasn't the first time something had wanted to do him in during a quiditch match. But to have two bludgers attacking him at once and no time to even pause for breath for a time out was too overwhelming. Some of the crowd was beginning to notice and point. He could hear the Slytherins jeering.

"What's wrong with Potter here, eh?" Smith exclaimed. "It seems like those bludgers don't like him very much. Or maybe they like him too much." Harry seethed and turned in Smith's direction, only to be smacked by a bludgers on the side of his head. He was falling…falling…clutching his broom for dear life even though it was plummeting uselessly to the ground. Some people got up from the stands.

Hagrid was feet away from him and…caught him. Harry saw McGonagall approaching, white as a sheet. The quiditch players had landed as well, either sneering at him or fraught with worry.

"Is the boy all right?" McGonagall demanded. "Quick, Hagrid, bring him into the infirmary!"

"What about the match?" Vanessa asked worriedly. She seemed to have been voicing all of their thoughts for everyone was quiet, waiting for the answer.

"We'll have to forfeit," Harry mumbled though he dreaded it the instant the words left his mouth. For some reason, it seemed that the whole school heard him. he heard many a gasp.

"Harry!" Ron exclaimed. "No!"

"There's no way you're going to win, anyway," Zabini pointed out, smirking. "It's not like you've got a replacement who'll play. You should have prepared for one though. You should all know by now that Potter has a tendency to injure himself for attention."

Harry thought for a while. Perhaps Ginny? But she was such an excellent Chaser. What was he going to do? Unless…

"I'll play!" A steely voice cried out.

**Told you I'm bad with quiditch matches. Can't say I didn't warn you. Review anyway!**


	17. The Prophecy of Deceit

**glPiItTtAer: Yeah, I hate balls. That's probably why the only sport I like is badminton. You use a shuttlecock, which doesn't hurt nearly as much as a ball when it hits your face. Yep, go Hallia!**

Chapter Seventeen The Prophecy of Deceit

"You?" Zabini scoffed.

I pursed my lips and tried not to take it personally. "What, scared?" I challenged. That caught his tongue. I don't know why I'm out here, standing shoulders flung defiantly back, requesting to sub for Harry.

Maybe the last few weeks have been too long without flying, or maybe it's the awareness of a certain person who I know is watching. But Gryffindor needs me. I'm the best they have and I want to prove it. Clashing with Harry doesn't matter anymore. Though I feel slightly guilty now, I know it would fade as soon as I launch myself into the sky.

Harry doesn't know about the extent of my skills yet. He smiled at me. You can take my broom," he murmured.

The Firebolt. He was willing to let me use the Firebolt. I smiled at him, hoping he knew the extent of my gratitude. "You'd better get up to the Hospital Wing," Minerva told Harry. I scanned him quickly. His head would probably be sore for a few weeks and I was willing to bet he at least sprained his wrist during the fall.

"I'll be listening from the Hospital Wing," Harry said. I smiled as I picked up his broom, my skin tingling. I couldn't wait to get on it. It looked unharmed and just waiting for me to try it out. Feeling a new rush of confidence and determination, I mounted it.

It was glorious to glide effortlessly through the sky. This was better than any skydiving or hang-gliding muggle activity. I was alive again. Every muscle in me was screaming with delight. I had to get myself a Firebolt.

Hannah had the Quaffle held tightly under her arm and was making a beeline for the posts. I smiled slightly as I looked around for a glint of gold while keeping an eye on the bludgers. Zabini was circling me, which annoyed me greatly. I dodged away, still searching for the snitch. I knew he'd be up to no good. I wanted to examine those bludgers later on, though I'm sure I wouldn't put it past Minerva to triple check them.

The crowd cheered and I glanced up to see that Ginny had scored another goal for Gryffindor. The snitch had to be here. I spun around in circles, trying to cover everything around me. I know often in quiditch, you don't think, you just make a split second decision, but I really couldn't see that snitch and it was irritating me. Surely Harry would have caught it by now. Why couldn't I?

Then I saw it, right above the Slytherins. They saw it too and were yelling for Zabini to see. I dove after it, telling the Firebolt to increase its velocity. I heard Smith bellow something obscene in his megaphone but I couldn't tell what it was.

The wind was shrieking dangerously close to my shattering eardrums. I had to get that snitch! I can't imagine the cold satisfactory of snatching it from the air in direct view of those foul Slytherins. I could hear it's buzzing. I didn't know where Zabini was nor did I care. My soul ambition was to grab that snitch. I must. And I did.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

_She tossed and turned, fretting. Her husband glanced at her worriedly. He was starting to believe convincing her to keep the child was a mistake. He knew Sirius and Remus had a point, that the newborn couldn't cause much trouble, but Lily was rather vexed when she gave in. It wasn't too late to change their minds. They could still get rid of it._

_He stared sightlessly at the cribs. Lily had insisted the girl's was further away. He crossed the room, over to the girl. She was wide-awake; her dark emerald eyes staring inquisitively back at him. He sometimes had the uncanny feeling that she knew everything that was going on, what was being said, and what they were thinking. He didn't feel _safe_ around her. He climbed into bed, deciding that perhaps they should give her away after all. They already had Harry. They didn't need anyone else. Lily had compulsively refused to even consider names for the girl yet. Who knows, maybe she didn't have to._

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

_That awful chant. It would haunt her, she knew, for her entire life. All she had to do was leave the girl, rid herself of her misery, take the feeling away. They were driving her into madness._

To deceive or to be deceived

To choose but one which you received

The one with knowledge lies within

Unlocks the veil between hell and heav'n

Leave it be to cause its havoc

Shifting tides, unbalancing others

Heed our word, desert the girl

To keep this a more promising world

To deceive or to be deceived……

_She just had to do what they told her to do, and all would be back to normal once more. And it was. For a while. Did she chose wrong?_

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Harry!" Hermione cried, seeing him walk into the common room. "Thank god, you're back."  
"Yeah," Ron added. "You should have seen Zabini's face."

Harry nodded. "Yeah. Where's Hallia? I need to thank her."

"She was amazing out there," Hermione said. "Almost as good as you. that's a compliment," she added.

"I think she went up to her dormitory," Ron said, answering Harry's question. "Why does she hang out there so much, anyway?"

"She just wants her privacy," Hermione explained. "Imagine living alone for seventeen years and then going to school here with hundreds of other people."

"I'll be in heaven," Ron sighed.

Hermione cast him one of her frequent disapproving looks. "Anyway, Harry, do you want me to go get her?"

"No, it's okay," Harry replied. "I'll tell her later."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

I gritted my teeth in frustration. I hated having to sift through all the useless memories. There were so many faces I didn't recognize. I thought the pensieve would help me, but it's bringing more trouble than assistance.

It was almost as if it didn't want me to see and keeps giving me meaningless information instead. I almost convinced myself that Dumbledore never even heard the prophecy outright. Who was it made to? Are they still alive? Will the pensieve relent and show me? Is the moon made of cheese? Do sunglasses fly? Do garden gnomes drive Porsches? I really should stop.

I wonder if I can empty the pensieve and put all the data in my memory. But what if I lose it? I was still debating this back and forth when an owl flew towards my window. I heard it before I saw it and instinctively shoved the pensieve back under the bed and let the sheets fall to hide it.

The barn owl was tapping on the glass rather loudly so I opened the window and let it in. I stroked the owl's beak, untied the letter on its leg, and watched it flutter away. I didn't expect a letter but I unrolled it anyway.

_Hallia,_

_Minerva tells me that you overheard Kingsley and I discussing a certain prophecy? Let me ell you first not to tell such outrageous lies and second to forget about it. I really don't want to hear where you got wind of it but you have to put it behind you, understand? It was misinterpreted and doesn't concern you. You're lucky I covered for you this time but trust me when I say I won't do it again._

_The Order has confided a lot in you. Don't disappoint us. I'd like you to burn this upon reading it just incase and not to reply, at least, not by owl or floo. Perhaps during vacations. And please, don't push your snooping on Kingsley and I. You, of all people, should know how busy he is. I also no longer wish to look bad in front of Minerva. Heed my warning, the prophecy can only bring you harm, you will do better to leave it be._

_Remus_

I read it over twice to make sure he didn't spill anything he shouldn't have. He must have done so as well because I couldn't see any information I can add to my growing file **(commonplace book)**. I sighed, defeated, and burned the letter as instructed, then turned to reviewing my Transfiguration paper.

**You guys should review too.**


	18. Unexpected Endowment

**glPiItTtAer: Yeah, I was in a hurry when I did that part. It'll be cleared out, promise!**

**Disclaimer:**

**Me: Okay, Ari, spill. I want more writing ideas! I'm really behind on this one. Anyone noticed that seventeen chapters and about 27,000 words have gone by and nothing big has happened?**

**Arethusa: If no one has, they will once they read that. And I told you about the name.**

**Me: I really don't want to hear it.**

**Arethusa: Fine, be that way. Since Rhia's pretty much just admitted she doesn't own any of her ideas, I'd like to mention the fact that she doesn't own Harry Potter, either, something she's neglected to do for a while now.**

**Me: No need to rub my nose in it. And my ideas **_**are**_** mine!**

**Arethusa (raises eyebrows): How so?**

**Me: You're mine! At least, a figment of my imagination. Same difference.**

**Arethusa: Rats.**

Chapter Eighteen Unexpected Endowment

**Hallia's P. O. V.**

_I was flying in a large stadium, larger even than the one at school. I wasn't sure where I was but that didn't matter. It never did in dreams. I could be swimming in fog and my mind would never register anything wrong with he scene. Not that this has ever happened before._

_Cheers reached my ears as I smile. This was what I had always wanted. To be acknowledged for my work. When deprived this, there is no limit to how much you crave for it._

_Then, it was just me on my faithful broom and the world, as everyone else melted into the distance. I soared over mountaintops and great lakes and oceans with dolphins whistling in rapture. I then went closer to the ground, until my knees were gently grazing the green grass in the pasture below me. I hear a whooshing sound to my right. I paused to survey but found nothing wrong and continued on. A shadow overcame me, a big black shape stretched out before the sun's golden glow. I turned quickly, to see -_

I woke up suddenly, tense, and was confronted with an overpowering feeling that something was out of place. I bolted upright. It was dark, so dark, I could barely see my hand inches from my face or the open window creaking back and forth from the wind. Yet I felt it. Something wasn't right.

I turned frantically from left to right, half expecting an axe murderer lurking nearby, or someone sitting on my bed, staring at me with glowing yellow eyes **(as well as strong instincts, Hallia's got a wild imagination, okay?)**

"Over here," someone said. A frown crossed my face. I could sense they were smirking and I didn't like that. Then it dawned on me. Someone was _in my dormitory._ Took me long enough. In my defense, it was late.

I swept my fingers along my bedside table frantically until I located my wand. I wrapped my fingers around it and relaxed, ever so slightly. "Show yourself," I said sharply. I was too tired to distinguish their voice, fighting to stay awake and trying to summon some urgency or wariness. All I knew was that they were up to no good. Whoever it was picked a very problematic time to show up.

After having the courtesy of waiting ten full seconds, I lit my wand and shone it across the room. In a corner stood a cocky-looking Draco Malfoy clutching his broom and giving me an amused look. I cursed. "How did you – don't tell me, the window?"

He nodded, his lips curling into a smile. "We _are_ smart."

I continued glaring at him, seeing no reason to plot another course of action as I subconsciously pulled my covers. "What are you doing here?" I snapped. I was not in the mood for this. I did not want to trade reliving a warped account of the quiditch match in my dreams for confronting a potential enemy who decided to hold a conversation in my room, in the dead of the night. I fully excuse myself for being crabby.

'You're a light sleeper, you know that?" He stepped out of the shadows and gave his wand a careless flick. My lamp lit on and illuminated the entire dormitory.

The light from my wand was so dismal compared to his that I put it out. I gave him what I hope was an even stare. "That's neither here nor there. If you don't either get out or tell me why you're here, I'll shove your face down my dormitory window and snap your broom in two." I said this all in a smooth voice. What angered me was that he seemed delighted by my daring. I realized that I posed no threat to him, or so he thought. He had obviously gone too long without being hexed.

"You were very good out there," he said quietly. I was taken aback. This was not what I expected.

"Excuse me?" I said weakly. He had caught me off guard. I didn't like that.

His smirk returned. "You heard me. You're much better than that conceded brother of yours."

"You should talk," I retorted. "You're obviously completely full of yourself. Is that all you wanted to say?" I loosened my hold on my wand. I could hear my voice soften. I felt disgusted with myself.

"Well…" He inched closer. "There _was_ something else."

I glared up at him impatiently. "Just tell me and leave," I said irritably.

He smiled and fumbled in his robe pockets. He brought out a small box and placed it on my bedside table.

Weariness was tugging at my eyelids as I squinted, trying to focus on the box. I looked at him, bewildered. Sleep was claiming me as he then opened it and revealed a twinkling object sitting on a dark velvet cushion…

**Draco's P. O. V.**

Though the gods have neglected to bless me with an inordinate number of properties, they have generously graced me with the ability to look like I know what I'm doing, even if I have no clue whatsoever.

Honestly. I mysterious got this package through owl post in the middle of the night. It was wrapped in so many layers of wrapping paper that if I were like Mother, who unraveled it neatly and saved it for later use, I would have been there until morning. Inside was one of those fancy jewelry boxes you see in store windows on Mother's or Valentine's Day and a note explaining its uses.

Being the kind of person I am, I wanted to get it out of my hands. It's nice to know I'm not completely stranded in this suicide mission. Somehow though, I doubt the Dark Lord would want to give me a hand in all this. After all, I've always assumed he thought I was a big failure. And the Dark Lord doesn't give his denser followers and tips or pointers.

Then again, maybe I'm just thinking too much **(wow, never thought that would come out of Malfoy)**. I'm getting help, might as well accept it, you know? I'll just consider myself lucky.

**Hallia's P. O. V.**

I woke up groggily to the sound of…me, mumbling in my sleep like an escaped convict who had mental issues of the neurotic variety.

Then my dream flooded back to me. I shuddered, imagining Draco Malfoy actually in my dormitory. I opened my safe up to my commonplace book and scribbled down the details with a quill, not bothering to use the enchantment on the notebook, before it slipped from my mind, as dreams tend to do. When I got it all down, I relaxed and smiled. I always felt safer when things are recorded and written down. My life is extraordinary. I don't want to forget any of it.

Besides, when I take notes of my dreams, I can decipher them, especially that elegant-looking…I shook my head firmly, trying not to think about it's meaning. I locked the safe, and changed into my robes.

People congratulated me on my performance the other day. I would give them a gracious smile or a slight nod to acknowledge them but did not want to milk it for all it was worth. Seeker was Harry's place. He was here first and he deserves the spot. I hold no hard feelings toward him.

"Hey," I said as I slid into a seat across from Hermione. Why was I always late?

Hermione looked up from her Arithmancy book and smiled. "Hi."

"I thought you'd have already finished," I said, indicating the book.

"We have an exam," she said briskly, "and I wanted to review."

I swore under my breath, having completely forgotten. We have these regularly now that we were 'nearing our N.E. W. T. s and severely need practice,' according to Professor Vector, who everyone says wasn't this strict during the last few years. It was just my luck to catch her on her crabby year.

I wolfed down my breakfast and in ten minutes, we were all heading wordlessly towards the Potion's lab. Some Slytherin girls walked by and smirked a each other for some ominous reason. I fingered the edges of my sleeve nervously. Was something wrong?

They seemed to have given me more than the usual once over. I now know that bigotry has made this group believe they, alone, are elite. I intended to fix this somehow. Then, one of them spoke snidely, "What is up with that old ring you're wearing, Potter? Did you get it from your godfather's attic?" They all collapsed in hysterical giggles but I saw nothing funny about it.

Harry glanced at his two hands as if expecting an old fashioned ring to have slipped itself on his finger. When he saw that they were bare and let out a sigh of relief, he gave me a sharp look. Ron was busy glaring at the Slytherin girls but Hermione's eyes were fixed on my finger.

As I lifted it up, I saw it was donning a thin strip of silver that curled up a bit on both ends. On the other side, was a clearly cut emerald. I presumed I wouldn't be interpreting any dreams after all.

**You know what, this has actually been one of the long ones…for me. I suddenly realized I haven't been doing much with the classes so I'll add some of that next chapter. And I've already got an idea for what the ring does that even Draco hasn't been told.**

**And if anyone was confused, Arethusa's my muse and for someone who doesn't exist, she sure talks a lot!**

**Arethusa: Heard that! And review. Cheers!**


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